


Tria Prima

by ghost_like



Category: BTOB
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comedy, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Quirky Semi-Horror, Romantic Comedy, beware of crude language, someone once called this a 'quirky semi-horror' and i like the sound of that so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-07-01 18:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15779556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghost_like/pseuds/ghost_like
Summary: When Sungjae said he wished there was a little more magic in his life, he didn't mean itliterally.





	1. Chance is but a name for law not recognized;

Now that he stopped to really look at it, that thing was creepy. It hadn’t looked creepy when it was surrounded by other unwanted objects at that yard sale where he got it, and he  _ did _ need a decent full body mirror for his new apartment, but now that the thing was there, looking far too big resting against the wall of his bedroom, Sungjae was getting second thoughts.

It was taller than he was, for starters, and wider too, so only the sheer size of it felt like overkill considering that his apartment was more on the small side - and sure, Eunkwang had warned him about how placing a mirror where it could reflect your bed was bad luck according to Feng Shui or whatever ancient knowledge, but there was nowhere else but that one specific wall next to his bed where the monstrosity would fit. 

Granted, it wasn’t ugly; the frame was polished ebony wood, black and lustrous and carved in intricate patterns of vines and flowers and leaves, while the mirror itself was rectangular, the frame’s details bleeding around its edges. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale.

He almost considered giving it back - it was far too large for him and it didn’t match the rest of his bedroom’s decoration at all, but he’d gotten it so cheap it would be a waste to just get rid of it. Mirrors like that were expensive, and that one looked like an antique. You just don’t throw away antiques. Maybe he would, eventually, sell it online for an exorbitant price, but, for now, he wouldn’t be able to afford a new mirror that was as good as that one.

Still, though. The thing was creepy. Anytime he looked into it, the impression he had was that his reflection wasn’t the only one looking back. Maybe that was why it had been so cheap - maybe that mirror was haunted.

Well, haunted or not, Sungjae needed to be able to see himself before leaving the house. He’d gone out with his shirt backwards and his fly open way more times than he could count, and his girlfriend threatened on multiple occasions to break up with him if he didn’t stop embarrassing her in public, so.

Mirror stays, ghost or no ghost.

He would have to hang the thing on the wall eventually, but that sure seemed like a whole lot of work. It could wait. He was too lazy and it was Sunday, and Sunday was day for Netflix and take out for dinner. Maybe even a little evening sex, if Sooyoung was around, but he would probably have to take care of himself again.

He winced at the thought. How sad was it, that now he had to plan ahead to have sex with his girlfriend. They used to be more spontaneous back when they’d started dating during their first year of high school, but that’s probably what it meant to grow up - you fall into a routine and things are just not as exciting anymore. And then you get busy with college and work and taxes and Adult Things™, until you wake up one day and realize that the magic that used to be a part of your life is not there anymore, instead replaced by a droning monotony of wake up, go to college, go to work, go to bed, rinse, lather, repeat.

Sungjae caught sight of the defeated expression on his reflection in the mirror and shook his head, trying to shove all the doom and gloom out of his mind. No, he would not waste the remnants of his Sunday throwing himself a pity party.

He crossed his arms, circled the ground in front of the mirror, staring at it almost as if in a challenge as he moved.

Finally, he stopped and pointed his index finger at his own chest in the mirror, looking at himself dead in the eye. “You are only 21, Yook Sungjae. You are young and you are the life of the fucking party, so cheer the fuck up, you hot pile of sexy. Damn right.”

Silence followed his pep talk and something in his reflection looked terribly judgemental.

So Sungjae awkwardly cleared his throat and shuffled out of the bedroom to go order his take out.

 

**☽☿☾**

 

It took Sungjae over a month to finally get off his ass and hang the damn Mirror on the wall. The decision wasn’t made out of a sense of duty or tidiness, of course - but The Mirror. The  _ Mirror _ . Capitals well earned,  **T** he  **M** irror. It was like The Mirror was constantly judging him and his life choices, mocking him whenever he turned his back. It was maddening. Sungjae had been told his thought process wasn’t very normal, sure, but he never felt truly mad, like he was going insane much as if he were some woeful character in a classic gothic tale of yonder obsessing over one inanimate object or another.

And hey, if he hung The Mirror up on the wall, that meant he would at least stop stubbing his toe on it every morning.

By now, he was almost entirely convinced the thing was haunted. Sooyoung hated it with a passion ever since the moment she first laid her eyes on it. She had even tried convincing him to cover it up with some sheets before they had sex, but Sungjae easily argued that it was just a mirror.

“I feel like it’s watching me”, she said, shooting a sideways glare at The Mirror, her reflection looking displeased.

Sungjae felt like it was always watching him too, but he decided not to tell his girlfriend that. No need to give her more reasons to antagonize his monster of a mirror.

His friends seemed to share her opinion. Eunkwang refused to go anywhere near it and kept telling him to burn it down; Donggeun and Minhyuk wanted to try playing Bloody Mary with it, and Changsub kept staring at it with his eyes narrowed suspiciously. The only one who seemed to be alright with it was Hyunsik, but then again, Hyunsik would likely befriend the devil himself because that’s just how nice he was. He probably thought they were doing The Mirror a great injustice.

And his cat, Sami, also seemed to have some sort of problem with The Mirror - she would sit and stare at it, as if seeing something beyond, to then, suddenly, jump high in the air with fright and run off to hide under the couch.

In hindsight, maybe he should have asked for help to accomplish that particular task - The Mirror looked very, very heavy. He hadn’t lifted it himself yet, having hired help to bring it up to his apartment after he bought it, but he was about to test it out.

He peeked behind it in search of any slots - which were absolutely the worst way to hang anything on the wall - and sighed with relief once he found a taut, thin blackened iron chain crossing its width. So much better. He slid his hand behind it to see if the chain was firm enough and wouldn’t snap, because it looked frail, brittle, and frowned slightly when his fingertips brushed over an odd dip in the wood, like a deep scratch.

Curiosity picked, he moved away only to retrieve his phone and turn on his lantern app to get a better look, flipping The Mirror around so he could have a good look at its back.

The moment he saw it, his stomach sunk and a sense of dread invaded his mind.

There were inscriptions etched onto the ebony, the words entirely foreign to him as he couldn’t even recognize what language that was. Not even the alphabet used was remotely familiar. It screamed ‘danger’, and he felt that, were he in a movie, someone in the audience would be yelling “DON’T READ THE LATIN” at the screen.

And fine, it wasn’t Latin, but the foreboding feeling it gave him was the same.

He flipped The Mirror around again and stared into his own reflection’s eyes. He felt there were eyes looking back at him, but those eyes weren’t his own.

“What are you?” He asked his reflection in a whisper. The silence was his only answer.

But it was fine. It was just a mirror. As long as he didn’t ‘read the Latin’ he’d be fine, and he didn’t even know how to read whatever language that was. It was perfectly safe.

“You don’t scare me.” He told The Mirror, a scowl on his face. “You big stupid mirror.”

Vehemently ignoring that sensation he was being laughed at, he turned off the lantern on his phone and tossed it away at his bed before going to fetch a hammer and a few nails. He would hang the damn thing and then he would have a drink and watch porn. Yes. Good plan.

There was something in the air when he returned to his room, a sort of electricity. Sungjae stopped at the entrance, squinting his eyes suspiciously at the bedroom like he was expecting a goblin or ghoul to jump out from behind the curtains yelling “GRAAAWRH” or whatever it was that goblins and ghouls yelled, but nothing moved. Everything was still, quiet - eerily so. He couldn’t even hear the sounds of the busy avenue outside.

“Get a grip, Yook Sungjae, you’re losing it.” He told himself, to then square his shoulders and march towards the mirror. “It’s all in your head, you’re just imagining things.”

He stared at The Mirror for a moment, daring it to do something, anything that would prove it was haunted, but it just sat there, still and lifeless like any other mirror. Damn, he really was losing it.

Shaking his head and telling himself over and over to focus, he measured the approximate height of the chain to place the nails, taking into consideration that the mirror was just a bit taller than himself, and set to work, using his shoulders as guides. He hammered in the first nail without incident, and then the second. The third one he placed between the other two a couple inches higher to make a triangle of nails, which would make it that much harder for The Mirror to come crashing down.

He positioned the nail carefully and aimed the hammer even more carefully, but the moment he swung it down to hit it he heard a distinctive  _ psst _ and his concentration went straight to hell - likely The Mirror’s hometown.

His hand wobbled, causing a bit of the flesh of his thumb to get caught under the nail right before he hit it, the iron ripping through his skin and causing Sungjae to hiss in pain and drop both hammer and nail to the ground in favor of cradling his injured thumb against his chest.

“Awrgh, fuck me running sideways in a flower field in Spain, this hurts,  _ fuckfuckfuck _ —” 

He jumped around for a while, like that would do anything for the pain, before he finally felt like he was able to assess the damage and peeked down at his thumb.

Luckily, it didn’t seem  _ that _ bad, despite the pain. It was bleeding, but it didn’t look like the wound was too deep. Small mercies.

Sungjae then turned an angry scowl at The Mirror. “You did this, didn’t you? Stupid mirror.”

He grumbled some more under his breath like some old man, deciding to just get this done already to be free of that one task. His finger was still hurting and still bleeding, sure, but there were worse things in the world and now it was a matter of pride.

Sungjae valiantly retrieved his hammer and nail, and, shooting a warning glare at The Mirror, finished securing it to the wall. He got some blood on the wallpaper, but he didn’t care much.

Then, dropping the hammer on the floor, he took hold of The Mirror and lifted it and— 

Huh. It was actually really light.

Whatever, he didn’t care how much that thing weighed, he just wanted to put it up on the wall and go find something tasty to eat.

Holding it up by its sides, Sungjae pressed the side of his face to the wall so he could see if the chain was well placed atop the nails, his tongue peeking out to the side between his lips in concentration.

He didn’t notice he got blood on the surface of the mirror.

He didn’t notice the mirror absorb that little bit of blood.

He finished hanging The Mirror up and clapped the dust off his palms, a satisfied smile on his face. Task performed, now he could go and order some spicy chicken and— 

“Took you long enough.”

He shrieked at the sight of a stranger on the Mirror’s reflection and jumped back, the back of his knees hitting his bed and causing him to fall sitting on the mattress.

“What the shit on a fucking cracker, who the fuck are you!?”

The stranger blinked slowly at him, a smug smile on his upturned lips. He had dark brown, wavy hair, sharp eyes and a really cute nose - a weird adjective to use, considering he was probably a demon and all. He was wearing black hooded robes, plain and simple, and it somehow didn’t match his young face; it looked like something a priest would wear in a medieval setting. Not that Sungjae knew much about medieval fashion, but that’s what came to mind.

“You certainly curse a lot. It’s sort of endearing.” He said, and Sungjae felt a blush creeping up his face despite himself.

“Who the fuck are you and why are you in my mirror!?”

The man - Ghost? Apparition? Demon? Poltergeist? - simply arched an eyebrow at him. “Excuse you, it’s  _ my _ mirror.”

“Who are you!?” Sungjae screeched and the man made a face, one of his hands coming up to protect his ear.

“Tsc, so noisy.” He complained. “My name’s Ilhoon. Happy now?”

“That doesn’t explain who you are or why you’re in my mirror.” Sungjae said, getting back to his feet even as his knees wobbled.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m trapped here.” Ilhoon gestured vaguely to his surroundings - which looked like a simple black box, from what Sungjae could see - before locking his gaze with Sungjae’s. “If you can be a pal and release me, I’ll be out of your hair and we can both look back at this moment and have a laugh, how’s that?”

“Why are you trapped?” Sungjae took a tentative step closer.

“Because someone trapped me.”

“Well,  _ duh _ , thanks for saving the day, Captain Obvious, but  _ why _ did they trap you there?” Sungjae demanded, feeling a little emboldened by the fact that the guy - Ilhoon - seemed powerless to hurt him. “Are you a demon or something?”

Ilhoon snorted derisively at him. “Pff, demon? No. I’m a sorcerer.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, I’m serious, I’m a sorcerer.”

“Sure, you’re a wizard, Harry.” Sungjae snarked and Ilhoon frowned with confusion.

“Harry? I just told you my name is Ilhoon.”

“It’s a reference from Harry Potter, you— You know what, ok.” Sungjae took a deep breath to reel his annoyance in. “Let’s say I believe you. To be trapped in there, I’m guessing you’re not a nice type of sorcerer.”

“Oh please, I’m plenty nice.” Ilhoon scoffed. “I’m the nicest. Sure,  _ sometimes _ I use black magic, but what’s a little bit of the dark arts in the greater scheme of things, right?”

“A ‘little bit’ of the dark arts wouldn’t have landed you permanent residence inside a mirror.”

Ilhoon narrowed his eyes at Sungjae. “You’re not as dumb as I thought you were.”

Sungjae squawked at the indignance of that comment. “I’m not dumb!”

“I’ve been watching you since you got this mirror, you know. You sure do a lot of dumb things.” Ilhoon tipped his chin up, arrogant, cocky, and Sungjae sort of wanted to punch him. “And you dance a lot in your underwear to 80’s songs, nice ass by the way, but also not an activity I tend to relate to intelligence.”

It finally hit Sungjae what Ilhoon was saying. “You… You’ve been watching me.”

“Uh huh.”

“All the time.”

“Yep.”

“And you can see everything I do.”

“Pretty much.”

Sungjae slowly slumped to the ground, covering his face with both hands. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Come on, don’t be like that.” Ilhoon said, cheery. “This mirror’s been up at a bordello once, I’ve seen way worse than you masturbating to rough bareback gay porn.”

Sungjae screamed into his palms, muffling out Ilhoon’s cheeky giggles.

“Does your girlfriend know? Not sure she would appreciate knowing her boyfriend is bi-curious.” Ilhoon continued on. “She’s pretty, I suppose. Not really my type, but then again, it makes sense why you like doing her doggy style so much.”

“OH MY GOD, STOP TALKING.”

Ilhoon cackled, obviously having the time of his life. “Alright, don’t burst into flames. Now, you can make me shut up really fast, all you have to do is get me out of here.”

Admittedly, Sungjae was tempted. Raising his head and lowering his hands, he stared at the man trapped inside the mirror. “What happens if I do set you free?”

“I’ll be out of your way and plotting my revenge in some distant shore.”

“...That doesn’t sound encouraging.”

Ilhoon sighed, shoulders slumping. “Fine. The truth.” The sorcerer shifted his weight from one leg to the other, staring at the ground as he spoke. “I was trapped in here for trying to plunge the entire world into darkness and bring forth an age of horror and despair, and to make sure I’d never get out I was also cursed not to be able to lie about it. Happy?”

Sungjae stared at Ilhoon, dumbfound. “So… You can’t lie?”

“About the details of the curse.”

“So you  _ can _ lie?”

“Not about the details of the curse.”

“Are you talking me in circles?”

“Are you talking me in circles?” Ilhoon parroted Sungjae’s voice, mocking, and Sungjae groaned.

“I’m not setting you free.” Sungjae got back to his feet, trying to look determined and intimidating despite his cheeks still being tinted red. “You can rot in there for all I care.”

Ilhoon made a noise that sounded like a whine. “No, please, please, let me out of here, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“No, not happening.”

“I’m going to tell your girlfriend you want to get dicked.”

Sungjae’s eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t.”

Ilhoon’s lips twisted in a way that was almost comical before he gasped as if all that time he had been choking. “Ugh, fine, I won’t, she can’t see me.”

“What do you mean, she can’t see you? You’re right there.”

“Yeah, but only you can see me.” Ilhoon ran a hand through his hair, the gesture natural and graceful for all that he looked a little flustered. “Unless she gets some bodily fluid on the mirror, she can’t see me.”

“...Bodily fluid.”

Ilhoon blinked and nodded. “Well, yeah. You got blood on it, that’s a bodily fluid. It could be anything, sweat, saliva, tears… I thought you’d get it done by spilling semen on it, you sure like pulling on your dick a lot.”

“Please stop talking about my sexual habits.”

“I’m stuck in a mirror. Entertainment is hard to come by.” Ilhoon said, then chortled. “Pff,  _ come _ . No pun intended, but fuck, that was funny.”

“Ugh.” Sungjae groaned and moved back so he could sit on his bed again. “Sooyoung was right, I should have covered you with a blanket.”

“I’m not the mirror. I’m  _ in _ the mirror. Different things.”

“I honestly don’t give a flying fuck.”

“Come on, just let me out. You won’t have to deal with me ever again.”

“And what should I do about the whole ‘plunge the world into darkness’ thing?”

“It really won’t be  _ that _ bad—”

“Uhm, an age of horror and despair sounds  _ very _ bad.”

“That’s all a matter of perspective!”

Sungjae took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. “This is too much, I need to eat something and take a nap, so you can just— Do whatever it is you do in there, I don’t care.” Sungjae made a dismissive gesture towards Ilhoon.

“Fine, whatever.” Ilhoon huffed like a petulant child. “And by the way? You should wash that cut, the nail looked pretty dirty.”

Sungjae looked down at his injured thumb, almost entirely covered with blood and sighed. He’d completely forgotten. “Yeah, thanks a lot for this too, I know it was you.”

“I needed you to see me, I’m not apologizing for that.”

“Whatever.”

Sungjae shook his head and left his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind himself.

Ilhoon’s voice rang through the hallway as he walked away, “ _ I’ll be here! _ ”

 

**☽☿☾**

 

Sungjae actually managed to ignore The Mirror -  _ Ilhoon _ \- for long enough to fall asleep on the couch after dinner, but his nap was short lived. He was too fidgety and nervous, still firmly convinced he had gone insane and Ilhoon was just a figment of his overactive imagination. It had to be. It made no sense, there were no such things as _ sorcerers _ . Maybe Ilhoon was just a neighbor who took a prank too far and cut a big hole on his wall to make it  _ look _ like he was trapped in the mirror.

But he had, just seconds before Ilhoon showed up as if by, well, magic, been hammering nails into the wall and the wall was as solid as it had ever been. It wasn’t hollow and it wasn’t fake, there was no way someone could have moved it so fast without him noticing.

Maybe The Mirror was some weird looking LED screen and Ilhoon was something akin to that paper clip that gave out help and advice on Microsoft Office. Just a computer-made character, programmed with a set of sentences and words to reply to general questions, but, in Ilhoon’s case, instead of giving helpful tips on how to format text, he was programmed to be a little shit.

But it didn’t explain how he knew things - very intimate things - about himself or what type of porn he watched. Bluetooth? No, it couldn’t be, he wouldn’t know about the… Uhm… The dancing to 80’s songs in his underwear by Bluetooth.

Or, and that was likely the correct explanation, Sungjae had finally snapped and went completely insane. He was just seeing things. That’s it, certainly, that must be it. His imagination was just running rampant and he’d just conjured some attractive dude with the power of his mind to fill in all his previously hollow fantasies that had the tendency to spring up anytime he watched said bareback gay porn. That was it. Of course, it had to be it.

Sungjae stood at the end of the hallway, staring ahead at his closed bedroom door with his eyes narrowed. Sami was sitting next to him, also staring at the door, and maybe Sungjae’s insanity had rubbed off on his cat - at least, he hoped that was the case, because the alternative— 

There was an actual person living inside his mirror.

A sorcerer.

An  _ evil _ sorcerer who basically wanted to bring forth the end of days.

And sure, the sorcerer -  _ Ilhoon _ , his mind so helpfully supplied - was hot. Very attractive. Ten out of ten. But he was also evil and his intentions seemed to be the Not Good kind, so maybe that lowered his overall score to a nine out of ten, and that only because Sungjae was not  _ not _ attracted to bad boys.

An evil sorcerer was likely the ultimate bad boy.

And why was he even thinking of how hot Ilhoon was? He had a girlfriend! Yes, his relationship had been a little stale for a while and he was pretty sure it would not last very long whether Ilhoon or anyone else was in the picture or not, but he was still Sooyoung’s boyfriend and he was not one for cheating.

“...Who said anything about cheating!?” Sungjae screeched at himself when the thoughts flashed through his mind and promptly clapped his hands over his mouth once he remembered he wasn’t alone in the apartment. Ilhoon would likely use anything and everything Sungjae said for leverage against him, so now, on top of having to be careful not to make a fool of himself in his own bedroom, Sungjae would also have to watch his big mouth.

He would have to go to his room eventually, though. Most of his stuff was there, including his cellphone which was still on his bed where he’d thrown it earlier, and— Oh, fuck, Sooyoung probably called while he was avoiding going to his room. She probably called and her message went to voicemail and the next time she saw him she would be  _ so _ pissed.

Maybe he should just set Ilhoon free and help him unleash the apocalypse - it would be less painful than facing Sooyoung’s wrath.

Knowing he couldn’t avoid it forever, Sungjae took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and strode as confidently as he could towards his room. Sami, damn her, didn’t come along. Not even to offer moral support. There was no such thing as loyalty in the world.

He opened the door and let it swing with a loud  _ tunk _ against the wall, keeping his chin high as he made his way to stand before the mirror. He was hoping he would find it looking like its usual reflective self, but no such luck - Ilhoon was still there, leaning on one side of his tiny, boxy prison, examining his nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world (which, considering he’d been trapped alone inside a mirror for who knows how long, they probably were).

“Ah. Came back, did ya?” Ilhoon said, breezy, not looking up from his nails. “Is it too much to hope you decided to release me?”

“You can’t lie about your curse.” Sungjae started, arms crossed and chin still raised in defiance.

Ilhoon raised an eyebrow, finally lifting his eyes to meet Sungjae’s gaze. “I can’t.”

“Cool. I have some questions.” Sungjae moved a couple steps away just so he could grab a nearby chair and drag it to the front of the mirror before taking a seat and crossing his legs.

Ilhoon looked amused - annoyingly so. “This should be good.”

“If you’re a sorcerer, I’m assuming you have magic.”

Ilhoon gave him an unimpressed look. “Really? That’s what you ask?”

“It wasn’t a question.” Sungjae smiled innocently at Ilhoon, confidence boosted with the way the sorcerer glared at him. “My question is, being trapped in there, can you still use magic?”

Ilhoon’s nostrils flared and his lips became a thin little line, but he still answered with an even voice. “No, I can’t.”

“Hm, good.” Sungjae nodded, pleased with the response, and carried on with the second question. “So you can’t manipulate the world outside the mirror in any way?”

“No.”

“How did you manage to make me hear you earlier, then?” 

Ilhoon’s expression went from stiff to smug in a heartbeat, and Sungjae hoped he didn’t look as uneasy as he felt.

“I didn’t. You did.”

Sungjae blinked once. Twice. “...I did?”

“Just before you hurt yourself, what were you doing?”

“I was putting nails on the wall.” Sungjae answered easily, no matter how much he felt like a child being asked by an adult what color is the sky.

“And what are those nails made of?” Ilhoon continued his questions. Sungjae sighed.

“I don’t know, iron?”

“Iron is a good conductor for magic.” Ilhoon informed and then, grinning like the cat who got the cream, asked one last question. “And how many nails did you put on the wall?”

“Uh… Three? I made a triangle, so three.”

Ilhoon’s eyebrows shot up at that answer, the sorcerer promptly beginning to cackle like a maniac inside the mirror. Sungjae frowned - well,  _ pouted _ more than frowned.

“What?”

“Wow, I really hit the motherlode with you.” The sorcerer shook his head, laughter still on his lips. “You see, not only is the number 3 a very powerful number, you also went the extra mile by making a triangle out of it. That’s a magical circle.”

“Circle? But it’s a triangle.”

“I didn’t mean it like a geometrical circle!” Ilhoon exclaimed, obviously exasperated. “Anyways, it’s all on you, so thanks.”

Sungjae opened his mouth to protest but closed it again with a loud  _ pop _ . Changing his mind, he scoffed and shook his head. “You’re shitting me, there’s no way it was me.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Ilhoon shrugged, dismissive, that shit-eating grin still plastered on his lips. “Speaking of sleep, isn’t time for you to go to bed? Or, well, shower, then wank for three minutes, stare blankly ahead, clean yourself up and  _ then  _ go to bed.”

Sungjae shrieked, a noise fit for a wild banshee, heat shooting up his body to the last string of hair on his head. Without saying anything more to Ilhoon - who was, yet again, laughing at his expanse -, Sungjae grabbed his pillow and a blanket and marched out to set up the couch. There was no way he would sleep in the same room as Ilhoon. Nope. N-O-P-E,  _ nope _ .

It served him right for wishing for magic in his life at 21.


	2. Opposites are identical in nature, but different in degree;

Sungjae was slowly going mad. It wasn’t a new feeling - he thought he was mad for a significant part of his life, but this— This was different. A different sort of madness, not like the madness he always had within, but a madness caused by external forces.

And by external forces, he of course meant Ilhoon.

Ilhoon… Ilhoon was most certainly a force to be reckoned with, and it made sense: he was a sorcerer trapped inside a mirror for millenia who never slept or got tired and had very few ways to entertain himself. It was like a cocktail of terrible made in the deepest circle of hell, a Sungjae was the unlucky baffoon into whose throat that same cocktail was being forcefully shoved down.

Sungjae tried covering the mirror up with the thickest blankets he had, but Ilhoon would start screaming and shouting and making the most annoying noises with his mouth until Sungjae, unable to take the cacophony anymore, had to uncover the mirror again.

He tried listening to loud music - on his first attempt, he got a noise complaint from his neighbours. On the second, this time using earbuds, Sungjae went temporarily deaf because of the volume and had to see a doctor to fix it.

His friends and his girlfriend were growing increasingly concerned with him, because any time any of them visited, Sungjae just couldn’t focus. If Ilhoon wasn’t actively being a nuisance, Sungjae would be on edge expecting the worst to happen. While having conversations, Ilhoon would start screaming or singing very loudly, making it impossible for Sungjae to hear what was being said to him - it got him in trouble with Sooyoung, who complained that Sungjae wasn’t interested in her anymore, and it got his friends deeply annoyed with him because he just didn’t take part in their conversations, instead staring somewhere with a vacant gaze and often looking around with a puzzled expression, going ‘huh?’ at everything like some village idiot.

He couldn’t sleep in his room because Ilhoon wouldn’t shut up all night, and moving the mirror somewhere else was out of the question - Sungjae was afraid that touching the damn thing would make everything worse, since touching it was what started that whole ordeal. With his luck, if he touched it again Ilhoon might gain the ability of shooting lasers out of his eyes, or, worse, an even louder voice.

And that was saying something, because Sungjae himself was very loud.

It got to the point Sungjae was avoiding going home, trying to come up with all kinds of excuses to spend the night at his friends’ places instead, visiting Sooyoung at her college dorm more often and for longer periods of time.

It was getting all kinds of ridiculous.

He considered selling the mirror, or even just dumping it somewhere, but what if the next person who found it set Ilhoon free and he came back for revenge? No, he couldn’t risk it. It was better to have him where he could keep an eye on him. That and also the, uh— Plunging the world into an age of darkness thing.

It was that line of thinking that brought Sungjae to stand in front of his closed bedroom door again, one month and a few days after the first night he “met” Ilhoon, with one goal in mind: to parley.

Sami was watching him from the couch, eyeing him in a way that felt way too judgemental for a cat and keeping her distance this time, unlike the last time when she had at least accompanied him up to the door. Really, no loyalty.

Sungjae inhaled slow and deep through his nose, holding his breath for a moment and listening to any odd sounds coming from inside his bedroom. It was quiet, eerily so, which was enough to give Sungjae a bad feeling about that whole thing. He should march in there and break the mirror. Throw it out the window into traffic. Set it on fire.

Instead, he exhaled through his parted lips, counted to ten in his head, and opened the door.

A part of him still hoped that the whole thing had been only a very vivid illusion, his imagination running wild in a field of daisies, but there was Ilhoon, still inside the mirror, still looking equal parts frustratingly hot and incredibly annoying.

The sorcerer raised his eyes upon Sungjae’s entrance, lips immediately quirking up in a smile that Sungjae could only describe as ‘ominous’. “Oh, there you are. Haven’t seen you in a while, thought you had run away for the hills.”

“I won’t lie, I’ve considered it.” Sungjae bitterly replied, stopping in front of the mirror with his arms crossed defensively. Ilhoon arched an eyebrow after looking him over from head to toes.

“You look like shit. Haven’t been sleeping well, I take it?”

For a moment Sungjae considered letting Ilhoon out just so he could punch him in the face. And it wasn’t a brief moment. “I’ll just cut to the chase here, I’m exhausted and this situation just can’t go on anymore, so—”

“Let me out and the problem is solved!”

Sungjae ignored the interruption. “So let’s try and reach an agreement, how’s that?”

Ilhoon looked very amused by the offer. “An agreement between us will only happen if one of the terms is letting me out.”

“Then let me make this very clear: I am not going to let you out.” Sungjae said, too tired to be anything but thoroughly serious. “And I am not only not going to let you out, but I’ll also find a way to coat this entire damn mirror with some waterproof goo and bury it inside a block of cement and throw it in the ocean, so don’t fucking try me.”

For all that Sungjae was still fuming, the way Ilhoon’s expression turned somehow impressed did make his confidence tingle a little. “Huh. Quite the power move you just did there. I can respect that.”

“And I’m not giving the mirror away or selling it, I won’t risk someone else setting you free.” He quickly added, before his bravado had a chance to cool down.

Ilhoon huffed, hands moving to rest on his hips. “So it’s not an ‘agreement’, it’s a threat. I do what you want and you don’t toss me into the ocean, is that it?”

“Of course not, I’m not that heartless.” Sungjae argued. “The agreement is, we try to make this work.”

“And how are we going to do that?” Ilhoon’s question was almost like a challenge.

“You stop bothering me and making my life hell, and I’ll find ways to keep you entertained.”

Ilhoon’s smug expression turned leering. “Oh? Are you going to let me watch you during your wank and spank time?”

“NO!” Sungjae screeched, face burning up. “I meant other ways! Like, I don’t know, letting you watch movies or something!”

“Are they  _ sexy _ movies?”

“I mean, if you want them to be I can make it happen, but can you even enjoy them from in there?”

“...I can’t. That’s a fair point.” Ilhoon crossed his arms again. “And all you want from me is silence?”

“You don’t have to be completely silent, you can talk to me if you want.” Sungjae gave the sorcerer a shrug. “I’m just asking for you to be reasonable. I need to sleep, and I need to be able to hear my own thoughts once in a while, you know?”

Ilhoon stared at him for a while, assessing. Sungjae simply stared back, allowing the sorcerer to consider it for as long as he wished, but Ilhoon was speaking again sooner than Sungjae expected.

“It does get very boring here. And I get tired from screaming so much, too.” He sighed, then nodded slowly. “Fine, let’s try that.”

 

**☽☿☾**

 

Sungjae woke up the next morning feeling much better rested than he had in a long time - even if he was still sleeping on the couch - and was more than happy to make good on his deal before leaving his house to go to class. He set up his laptop in front of the mirror, logged in on his Netflix account, and put the first episode of Stranger Things to play for Ilhoon, knowing that would keep him sufficiently entertained while he was out. 

Their agreement had everything to work out just fine, Sungjae had a really good feeling about it.

That is, until he returned home at the end of the day.

The first thing he heard was not Sami meowing at him as a welcome like it would usually be the case. Oh no. The first thing the he heard was—

“YES, MACHINE, I AM STILL WATCHING!”

Sungjae jerked back, startled with the sudden exclamation, but it didn’t take him much to figure out what was going on. He bit down on his lips not to laugh and ducked his head, quickly closing and locking the front door before making his way to the bedroom.

Really, he deserved a prize for not breaking into a wild fit of laughter once he entered the room and found Ilhoon banging his fists desperately on the glass of the mirror and jumping rapidly where he stood, eyes wide in anger and he yelled at the laptop, “I’M STILL WATCHING! LISTEN TO ME! CONTINUE PLAYING THIS SERIES, I COMMAND YOU!”

The sorcerer, then, noticed Sungjae’s presence and turned his angry glare at him instead. “ _ You _ . You tricked me! You lied to me! I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you!”

Sungjae stopped trying to hold back his amusement and laughed, rolling his eyes as he approached the laptop to read the warning on the screen that said “ _ Click if you are still watching _ ”. He didn’t know if he should laugh harder or if he should feel sorry about it. 

“I know you won’t believe me, but I really forgot about this.” Sungjae said as he pressed a button on the laptop so the show would keep playing. Ilhoon continued to glare at him, even if his lips were jutting out in an adorable little pout.

“If this was your revenge for all the screaming I did, consider yourself avenged. This was torture.”

“It really wasn’t.” Sungjae repeated, walking around his room to put away his backpack and search for a change of clothes, laughter slowly dying down. “And I’ll take this into consideration next time I leave you watching something.”

“Are you going to make it happen even faster? Make it so it happens when the show is at its most interesting?” Ilhoon questioned and, again, Sungjae could only laugh. “It’s not funny!”

“It sort of is.” Sungjae argued. “And no, I won’t do any of those things. Unlike you, I’m not evil.”

Ilhoon’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I won’t take your word for it.”

Sungjae sighed and decided against pursuing the argument. “Whatever. I’m going to the living room to do some work for my classes, is there anything else you need before I go?”

“Yes, for you to release m—”

“Not that.”

Ilhoon huffed. “Ugh. Fine.” The sorcerer shook himself, looking the textbook picture of a spoiled brat with his arms crossed and nose up. “Rewind the current episode so I can watch it from the beginning.”

Sungjae could have taken the higher road and just did as Ilhoon asked, but he couldn’t resist the chance of annoying the sorcerer a little more. “How do you say?”

Ilhoon pursed his lips to the point there was nothing but a thin line where his mouth used to be, and Sungjae rather thought he would see steam coming out of his ears. After what felt like an hour, Ilhoon finally said, quickly and between his teeth, “Please.”

“Good boy, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Ilhoon glared daggers at him as he moved to start the episode over like the sorcerer had asked, and, after making sure it was all working correctly and grabbing a change of clothes and his notebook, Sungjae whistled his way out of the bedroom.

He was really enjoying that change in power dynamics.

 

**☽☿☾**

 

The first week of their arrangement went by relatively well. Ilhoon would complain whenever Sungjae left him with only Netflix for company, so Sungjae began leaving him with music to listen to while he was out - it sort of worked, but Sungjae could tell Ilhoon was bored. That called for Plan B.

It was early in the morning, and Sungjae had just eaten his breakfast - which consisted of dry cereal since he’d forgotten to buy more milk - when he heard a noise coming from the bedroom. He frowned, thinking for a second that Ilhoon had done something wrong and moved to see what was happening, only to find Sami, the fur on her back standing up and her tail bristling, hissing at Ilhoon in the mirror. Ilhoon was staring right back at her, and before Sungjae could step in and stop whatever that was, Ilhoon yelled a sudden loud “BOO!”, causing poor Sami to screech and jump before zapping out of the bedroom to go hide under the couch.

Sungjae sighed, the sound of it muffled by Ilhoon’s wild laughter.

“Alright, I get it, you’re bored.” Sungjae interrupted, to which Ilhoon did nothing but to shoot him a death glare, laughter gone from his features. “I have something to remedy that.”

“Don’t leave me with that bullshit you call a ‘Netflix’ again.” Ilhoon groaned. Sungjae laughed.

“I won’t.” He promised, picking up his laptop from the bed and moving closer to the mirror. “I prepared ahead this time.”

Ilhoon didn’t seem convinced as he watched Sungjae approach, arms crossed and eyes wary. “How do I know you won’t trick me into having fun to then take it away again?”

“You really need to start trusting me, at least a little bit.” Sungjae sighed, glancing briefly at Ilhoon. It was tiring to live at odds like that, the way they have been ever since Sungjae discovered there was a centuries old sorcerer living inside his mirror; he wanted to extend an olive branch, per se, so they could at least be civil with each other. They didn’t have to be friends, just… Just not enemies.

Ilhoon seemed to notice his intention and deflated from his defensive stance, moving his head in a subtle nod. “Alright. But I swear on my old grimoire, if you trick me I’ll find a way to get out of here just so I can kick your ass.”

Sungjae chortled, dragging a nearby chair so it was placed in front of the mirror before setting down the laptop on the seat. “The only way this thing will stop playing is if there’s a blackout and the battery runs out before I get home, which is highly unlikely.”

“Ok…” Ilhoon agreed, still a little reluctant, silent while Sungjae plugged the charger on the laptop. “What form of entertainment have you prepared for me, then?”

“I figured it’s time for you to see what a real wizard looks like,” Sungjae started, turning around to flash Ilhoon with an impish grin, “so I set up a playlist with all Harry Potter movies for you to marathon.”

Ilhoon’s face might as well have been carved in stone. “...I am never trusting you again.”

“Give it a chance, will you?” Sungjae giggled, finishing preparing the video player before he straightened himself again. “There, I even put on subtitles for you in case you can’t hear it well from in there.”

“My hero.” Ilhoon deadpanned and sat down on the floor of his prison, a pout the size of the world on his face. “Go then, leave me to my suffering.”

“I have to finish getting ready still, call me if you need anything.”

“The only thing I need is for you to release me.” Ilhoon smiled sweetly at Sungjae, who made a dismissive gesture towards him and left the bedroom to go and take a shower, the theme of the opening credits of the first Harry Potter movie working as soundtrack for his departure.

As he showered, Sungjae couldn’t help but think that things were actually working out pretty well. Ilhoon was still being difficult, but he wasn’t as awful as he was during that first month, and while they weren’t exactly friends, sharing the apartment with the centuries old sorcerer trapped inside his mirror was not all that bad. It made Sungjae feel less alone, somehow; he was a social person, always had been, and while living alone gave him the privacy he’d always wanted, it got lonely at times. 

Ilhoon wasn’t the perfect roommate, far from it, but it did make Sungjae feel better knowing he wouldn’t come back to an empty apartment.

Finishing his shower and getting appropriately dressed, Sungjae returned to his room with the intention of grabbing everything he would need for his classes, work and then, later, a ‘dinner-and-a-movie’ date with his girlfriend.

Ilhoon looked displeased as he continued to watch the movie, not giving Sungjae much attention. The sorcerer only spoke once Sungjae was grabbing his work uniform from the closet.

“A  _ wand? _ This is bullshit, why are you making me watch this!?”

Shooting an amused glance at Ilhoon, Sungjae shoved his uniform into his backpack and said, “Just watch it, will you? I’m sure it’ll grow on you.”

“Doubtful.”

“Don’t be grumpy, it’s not like you have much choice.” Sungjae reminded him and slipped his bag onto his shoulders. “I’m off, enjoy the movies and stop scaring my cat.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Ilhoon dismissed him with a wave of his hand and, chuckling to himself, Sungjae left to start his day.

 

**☽☿☾**

 

Sungjae returned late that night after his lackluster date with Sooyoung, and was greeted by the sounds of one of the Harry Potter movies still playing from his laptop. Good - Ilhoon would have no complaints about his fun being interrupted again. He didn’t bother turning on the lights while he took off his shoes by the door, making his way to his bedroom in the dark following the glow of his laptop’s screen.

Silently as to not disturb Ilhoon, he padded softly into his room and immediately froze at the sight.

“Are you  _ crying _ ?” He asked, and Ilhoon immediately sniffled and shook his head.

“I can’t cry, it’s part of the spell.” He said, but his voice sounded choked. “No tears will come, but— Fuck, why did Dobby have to die!?” Ilhoon asked Sungjae, betrayal written on his features. “He just wanted to help his friends! He was a good elf!”

Sungjae sighed, a fond smile on his lips he didn’t even notice was there. “I agree, Dobby deserved better.”

“You’re damn right he did!”

Still smiling, Sungjae made his way to the lamp on the bedside table and turned it on, the expression on Ilhoon’s face clearer now. Indeed, he had not been crying, even if the lines in his expression betrayed an urge to do just that. How frustrating it must be, Sungjae thought, to feel something and not be able to express it. To want to cry and have no tears to spill, for the blood in your veins not to flow to your cheeks when you feel embarrassed.

The sudden curiosity to know if Ilhoon could feel aroused popped into his head and he ducked his face to hide the poorly timed blush it caused him. He should probably not let his mind wander into such dangerous territories - it wouldn’t do anyone any good to develop any curiosity regarding the very handsome but ultimately evil man trapped inside his mirror, especially not any curiosity of the sexual kind.

Trying not to look towards Ilhoon or seem too uncomfortable, Sungjae went out of the bedroom again to change into his sleeping clothes in the bathroom. He had good timing, at least - thinking of Ilhoon aroused was a very difficult image to wipe clean from his brain, and by going to the bathroom he would at least have a moment longer to compose himself and try to replace the very appealing image for something less sensual (a pile of dog poop; his phone with the screen cracked; waiting in line at McDonald’s; his mother crying over the shame of having such a weird son.)

Only when he felt in full control of his functions was that Sungjae returned to the bedroom, flopping on his bed heavily and sighing. He wasn’t sure what to make of his mood, but it sure wasn’t ‘good’.

“What took you so long? Were you shitting or wanking it out?” Ilhoon asked without moving his eyes away from the laptop screen and Sungjae groaned, covering his eyes with one of his arms to show Ilhoon just how much he did  _ not _ want to answer that question.

“Can you not? It’s been a long day.”

“Hm.” Ilhoon hummed, raising his eyes to look at him for the first time since he’d arrived. “Something the matter?”

Sungjae frowned at the question, raising himself on his elbows so he could look at the sorcerer quizzically. Instead of being defensive and asking what the fuck was Ilhoon playing at, he decided to just go along with it and see if it would lead to another session of headbutting - it probably would.

“Just… I don’t know.” Sungjae shrugged, moving his gaze around the room. He felt awkward talking about his problems with Ilhoon enough as it was, he didn’t need to maintain eye contact only to make it even worse. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

“Tired of what?” Ilhoon prompted, and he sounded genuine enough that Sungjae almost questioned if that was really the same snarky sorcerer that had been living in his mirror just that morning before he left for work. “Hang on, can you turn Harry off, please?”

Sungjae couldn’t hold back a little smile at the way Ilhoon had said ‘Harry’, as if the character had been part of his childhood as much as it had been Sungjae’s. He dutifully got up to press pause on the movie still playing on the laptop and moved the chair aside so he could sit down on the floor right on the spot it had been previously occupying. “Better?”

“Quite, thank you.”

“I’m just tired of my routine, I think.” Sungjae resumed the previous topic, bringing his knees up and lacing his arms loosely around them. “Work’s been annoying and college is kicking my ass and Sooyoung seems to be getting more and more demanding—” Sungjae paused and pursed his lips; he hadn’t meant to say so much, but then again, finding someone who would listen to him whine was difficult enough. Ilhoon was, apparently, willing, and even if he wasn’t, it’s not like he had anywhere to go. So. “I’d almost rather just stay home with you, because even if we bicker like old ladies, at least it’s something different.”

Ilhoon arched an eyebrow at him, then scoffed. “You’re talking about being bored to someone who’s been trapped in a tiny mirror for centuries?”

Sungjae couldn’t hide his blush this time around. “Y-yeah, you’re right, sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Ilhoon grinned. “I’m just fucking with you.”

Sungjae raised an eyebrow at Ilhoon, doubtful of his words. “You don’t have to lie. I know it bothers you being stuck there, I mean, how could it not?”

Ilhoon held his gaze for a moment, eyes narrowed just the slightest as if the sorcerer was trying to read him, but soon enough he looked away and shrugged. “I’ve made my peace with it.”

“Ilhoon—”

“If there is one advice I can give on your struggles,” Ilhoon said in a louder tone, obviously trying to distract Sungjae from wherever the conversation seemed to be turning to, “there is power in belief.”

Sungjae cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy. “Belief?”

“Yes.” The sorcerer confirmed, a small smirk on his lips. “There are many schools of magic which are a fueled by the power of belief. Many creatures and demons, too, become stronger the more you believe in them.”

“Like fairies? If you don’t believe in them, they die?”

Ilhoon stared at Sungjae as if he’d suddenly turned green. “How do you know that?”

“Uh… Ancient Disney knowledge? Everyone knows that.” Sungjae replied, because that was an obvious answer.

“I don’t know who this Disney is, but they should keep their damn mouth shut.” Ilhoon said with a little groan, before shaking his shoulders slightly. “Anyways, yes, if you don’t believe in fairies, they grow weaker.”

“Wait, fairies are  _ real _ ?”

“Do you have any idea how many fairies you’re killing everyday by not believing they’re real, Yook Sungjae!?”

“I’m sorry, I’ll believe in them from now on!” Sungjae cried. “I’ll even leave bowls of milk in the windowsill!”

“Milk?” Ilhoon snorted. “Trust me, fairies are the worst. Leave something stronger, like— Whiskey.”

“Whiskey for fairies?”

“Trust me.” Ilhoon repeated. “Anyways, what I’m saying is, if you believe your situation is shit, it will be shit. If you believe things will get better, then the universe will reflect that belief.”

“What if I believe I’ll win the lottery?” Sungjae grinned widely. Ilhoon rolled his eyes.

“That’s not how it works.”

“Then how does it work?”

“I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. Just believe.”

Sungjae sighed but nodded slowly, accepting Ilhoon’s non-explanation. Carefully, he asked, “Do you believe you’ll ever get out of that mirror?”

Ilhoon pursed his lips and lowered his eyes to the ground, his fists clenched. Sungjae immediately regretted asking that question.

“I don’t know. I— I don’t know.” Ilhoon muttered, voice so low Sungjae was surprised he could hear it at all. “I want to believe I will, but… It’s been so long. It’s hard to keep on believing after so much time has passed.”

There was something so fragile about Ilhoon at that moment that Sungjae couldn’t help but to stare. It was so rare to see Ilhoon dropping his guard, letting himself be vulnerable, honest, and Sungjae wished he could frame that moment in his memory.

He also almost gave in to the urge to set Ilhoon free.

“I think death would be kinder, at this point.” Ilhoon’s voice broke Sungjae out of his trance and he immediately began shaking his head.

“No, don’t say that. That’s a terrible thing to say.”

Ilhoon focused his eyes on Sungjae again, and now his walls were all back, armor once more in place, his little smirk proof of that. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Because—” Sungjae stuttered, licking his lips briefly in a way to buy himself time to think of something decent to say, “Because death shouldn’t be the answer.”

“Why not? I’m an evil sorcerer who wants to basically kill off every human being on the planet, you don’t think I deserve to die?”

“No, I don’t.” The answer came easy, and Ilhoon jolted inside the mirror, staring wide eyed at Sungjae like he hadn’t been expecting that reply at all, much less with such honesty. “And honestly? I don’t think you’re evil, either.”

Instead of surprise, this time Ilhoon reacted by bursting into a fit of laughter. Sungjae simply waited for him to get it out of his system. “You can’t be serious!” Ilhoon cried, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m standing here, trapped in a mirror for terrorizing people, admitting that I want every human being on the planet to be gone and reminding you of that constantly, and you don’t think I’m evil?”

“No. I don’t think you’re evil.” Sungjae repeated, and added, “I think you’re hurt.”

That sure killed Ilhoon’s laughter very fast.

“You know what, I gave you my advice, you can choose to take it or not, but I would very much like to continue watching Harry now, please.”

And that was that, apparently.

Sungjae sighed, resigned, and nodded to agree to Ilhoon’s request, getting up from the floor and placing the chair with the laptop where it had been earlier before pressing play on the movie. Ilhoon kept his gaze firmly turned to the screen, and Sungjae figured the sorcerer would not be talking to him again that night.

Well. At least he wouldn’t disrupt his sleep. Bright side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for everyone who left me a kudo on the previous chapter, and the people who commented on it as well!
> 
> this is a story that is very dear to me, but i am unfortunately not very motivated to write it so the updates will be slow. i will finish it, though. that's a promise.
> 
> thanks again, and i hope you've enjoyed this chapter.♡


	3. Nothing rests; everything moves; everything vibrates.

‘Disgruntled’ was an accurate way to describe Ilhoon’s current state of being. He wasn’t content, he wasn’t angry, he was just— Disgruntled.

Sungjae was— Alright, he wasn’t that bad. In fact, Ilhoon was finding that he was less and less bothered by his company, and that was saying a lot considering it had been ages since the last time he could actually speak to an owner of the mirror. The previous owners, the precious few who managed to activate it somehow, had gotten rid of Ilhoon on the first opportunity, because who in their right minds would want to keep a mirror that housed an ancient evil sorcerer around? Nobody, that’s who.

Or. Well. Except maybe Yook Sungjae.

Stupid Yook Sungjae.

All in all, he was grateful; Sungjae might not be inclined to release him, but he was at least treating him with a semblance of respect, offering him ways to keep distracted, leaving music on whenever he wasn’t around just so Ilhoon didn’t have to sit in silence, sometimes bringing over his laptop device to play some series or another. It was— Nice. It felt better than having to sit alone and stew in his own thoughts. And Sungjae himself was— Not that terrible to have around. He was a bit of a chatterbox and asked a lot of questions, but after spending centuries without having anyone to talk to it was refreshing to have someone asking him things and, more importantly, wanting to hear the answers.

And Sungjae was also very nice to look at. That helped.

The situation was still not ideal. He had to figure out a way to convince Sungjae to let him out of that damn mirror. Hadn’t he paid his dues already? Fair, being trapped inside that mirror only made his thirst for revenge grow stronger over the years, but it was only natural, wasn’t it? Anyone would want revenge in his place, too.

Maybe not against Sungjae. Against Sungjae just a little scare would suffice, and only because he was taking so long to free him. Otherwise, he was cool.

The sound of the front door opening and slamming shut took Ilhoon away from his thoughts. He could hear footsteps - more than one pair and one definitely louder, more pointed. High heels?

Ah. Sungjae’s girlfriend.

Ilhoon scoffed and rolled his eyes. He had nothing against the girl personally, hadn’t seen that much of her to paint an accurate picture of her character - or find what it was that made Sungjae fall for her in the first place - but the few times he’d witnessed her around Sungjae, she was— Eh. Not his type. She was pretty, not a shadow of doubt about that, but he had yet to be exposed to the more shining aspects of her personality.

He heard shuffling then, muffled voices. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he figured he soon would, considering how they seemed to be getting closer. Ilhoon leaned forward a bit, trying to listen better.

“—in the living room this time?” Sungjae was saying, sounding a little out of breath.

“Don’t be silly, your couch is really uncomfortable.” His girlfriend replied, laughter in her voice. “I like your bed, your bed is comfortable.”

“Th-then maybe the bathroom?” They were right outside now, and Ilhoon heard the door handle being moved and then a  _ thump  _ of wood against wood. “Really, let’s do it somewhere else—”

“Come on, stop being such a baby. We can do it in front of the mirror, don’t you want to watch yourself?”

“Uh, n-no, I really don’t.”

“Then watch  _ me _ !” The door finally opened, and Ilhoon simply crossed his arms and watched as the happy couple stumbled their way inside.

Sungjae glanced at the mirror, eyes going wide when he saw Ilhoon staring right at them. Ilhoon grinned, thoroughly amused, and wiggled his fingers in a cheeky ‘hello’. Sungjae winced and grabbed his girlfriend by the shoulders. “L-let me just cover up the mirror.”

“Don’t, I wanna watch myself.” She said, easily taking control of the situation and pushing Sungjae to the bed. The back of his knees hit the mattress and he fell sitting on it, his girlfriend climbing on his lap almost immediately. “Please, pretty please, we haven’t done it in ages.”

“U-uh, I—” Sungjae stuttered, again glancing at Ilhoon in despair as his girlfriend began grinding down on his lap, face burrowed on his neck. Sungjae was flushed bright red and Ilhoon, only to make it worse because it amused him, leaned back and smiled wider, gesturing for Sungjae to go on.

Sungjae whimpered, and his girlfriend must have thought it was a good sign because she suddenly began moving more eagerly on top of him. Sungjae’s hands gripped her hips, fingers twitching in his feeble attempt to keep focused, but he kept glancing at Ilhoon.

That was just too funny.

Sungjae looked at him dead in the eye and mouthed ‘ _ please turn around _ ’, to which Ilhoon laughed and replied out loud, “But this is so entertaining!”

Sungjae’s eyes widened even more and he looked at the girl grinding on him presumably to check if she’d heard it, but she hadn’t; of course she hadn’t. If she couldn’t see him, she also couldn’t hear him.

“That looks very pleasurable!” Ilhoon continued to Sungjae’s complete mortification, “I wish I had someone giving me a lap dance too!”

“Oh for—” Sungjae started but quickly clamped his mouth shut.

“Did you say something, honey?” His girlfriend asked, now nibbling on his ear. Sungjae shuddered under her; so Sungjae’s soft spot was his ears? Noted.

“N-no.”

“Come on,  _ honey _ , describe to me how it feels like! I haven’t gotten laid in centuries, I can barely remember.” Ilhoon shouted.

“Shut  _ up _ .” Sungjae hissed at him and his girlfriend pulled away to look at him with a hitch between her brows.

“What did you say?”

“I-I said— Move up a little, you’re falling off.” Sungjae gave her a crooked, awkward smile, and the girl stared at him suspiciously for a moment before scooting up on his lap and continuing what she was doing.

“Nice save!” Ilhoon clapped the loudest as he could possibly clap. “Now how about you start taking off your clothes, I don’t have all day!”

Sungjae glared at him and mouthed ‘ _ you’re an asshole _ ’ and, again, Ilhoon only laughed.

“Honey, come on, focus! I’m doing all the work here.” She complained with a sigh, starting to unbutton Sungjae’s shirt. “Or are you not in the mood?”

“I’m— I’m in the mood.” Sungjae said.

“Play with her tits!” Ilhoon yelled from his confines.

Sungjae gave him the most comical look he’d ever seen, struck dumb with the words, and Ilhoon decided to take it up a notch.

“Ask her to play with your ass, let your fantasies finally become a reality!”

“Shut up.” Sungjae whispered at him. His girlfriend heard him once again and stopped everything.

“What did you say to me?” She asked, then followed his line of sight. “Were you talking to the mirror?”

“Uh— No?”

“Sungjae—”

“I wasn’t!”

“Then fucking act like it!” She finally exploded, climbing off of him and moving closer to the mirror. “What is it with this thing? You’ve been obsessed with it since you got it and it’s been getting worse.”

“I’m not obsessed with it.” Sungjae mumbled, also getting up from the bed to approach his girlfriend. “Come on, Sooyoungie, let’s go do this somewhere else.”

“I’m not in the mood anymore.” She sighed, sounding tired, glancing down at the front of his pants. “And you’re  _ clearly _ not in the mood either. Was it something I did? You never— You know. Fail.”

Ilhoon had to bite on his knuckles not to laugh. Sungjae gave him a sideways glare.

“I think I just have a lot on my mind. It really wasn’t you.” Sungjae promised, taking his girlfriend’s— Sooyoung’s hands. Something inside Ilhoon recoiled at the sight. “I can take you out to dinner, if you want?”

“No…” She sighed, lacing her arms around Sungjae’s neck. “Let’s just stay in and order something. We haven’t spent time together in ages.”

“Sounds good.” Sungjae smiled, beginning to guide her out of the room. “We can make a pillow fort and play video games like we used to do in high school.”

Ilhoon watched the couple leave, their voices becoming faraway chatter once more. He lowered his head, arms dropping along the sides of his body as he stared at the floor; what was that about? Why— He just witnessed Sungjae and his girlfriend being affectionate, he’d seen it before and it never bothered him, but  _ now _ — For some reason the sight of them being cute together, holding hands, hugging… It was strange to see it.

Ilhoon tried not to think about it too hard. Maybe he just didn’t like Sungjae’s girlfriend after all.

 

**☽☿☾**

 

The patter of rain hitting the window was music to Ilhoon’s ears. He closed his eyes and only listened, letting the calm the rain always seemed to bring wash over him, soothe him.

Almost instantly he found himself thinking of Sungjae. Had he taken an umbrella? Likely answer was ‘no’ since that rain had started very suddenly and Sungjae often seemed to have his head in the clouds. He wouldn’t have noticed the weather was about to turn. The idiot would come home soaking wet and the next few days would be spent around a coughing, sneezing mess of a person who probably wouldn’t stop whining for even a second.

Stupid Yook Sungjae.

Ilhoon strained his neck a bit, face almost fully pressed to the glass to check the time on the digital clock on the nightstand; Sungjae would be home soon, so his prophecy would be proven true shortly.

He ignored how his insides seemed to have turned to knots at the thought of Sungjae’s return. He was getting too soft. All that time being trapped inside a mirror had made him too much of a wimp, considering how fuzzy he’d been feeling.

That fuzziness seemed to only rear its annoying head when Sungjae was involved, however.

He shook his head, clenched and unclenched his fists, and tried to focus on the rain. He couldn’t smell anything, but he faintly remembered the smells of a rainy day, the damp earth, the ozone, that characteristic smell of water. Fuck, he missed being able to smell. To taste. To feel temperature. To cry. To sleep.

If only stupid Yook Sungjae stopped being such a goodie goodie and let him out already— But no, of course not, he wouldn’t. That would be too easy, and Ilhoon found that, for him, things were never easy.

Sungjae was just yet another name to add to his shitlist. Stupid Yook Sungjae.

Still, stupid as he was, Sungjae had been treating Ilhoon like— Well, like a friend. Like someone who was actually there, and not just the inconvenient sorcerer who happened to be a prisoner in one of his purchases. He’d been talking to Ilhoon, sharing things with him, speaking to him of how society had changed, how the  _ world _ had changed. It was refreshing.

Refreshing like Yook Sungjae’s stupid smile.

Ilhoon shook his head again and clenched his fists tighter. 

Just then, he heard the sound of the door unlocking and smiled a sunny smile which he quickly tamped down. He wasn’t a puppy. He wasn’t going to start wagging his tail each and every time Sungjae came home. No. He was bored, sure, but he wasn’t bored to the point of celebrating Stupid Yook Sungjae’s return.

Absolutely not.

Ilhoon listened closely, ears attuned to the sounds of shuffling, and the door being closed and locked. Then, more shuffling, and finally ( _ what? Not ‘finally’, he was not waiting for Sungjae! _ ) footsteps making their way down the hall to the bedroom.

Ilhoon scrambled a bit to try and look natural, ending up leaning against one side of his prison, arms crossed, like he’d been bored out of his mind - which, granted, he had.

Sungjae (not) finally entered the room and Ilhoon, had he the ability to feel thirsty, would have felt his mouth go desert dry.

Sungjae was  _ drenched _ . He had been correct and the idiot had not brought an umbrella to whatever Very Important Places he had to go that day, and the rain enacted its wrath upon him. His hair was dripping, droplets of water trailing down the sides of his face, and his black tee, which had been a little loose on his frame earlier, was now clinging to his body as if it had been vacuum sealed. The moron was leaving behind a literal trail of water on the hardwood floor, and Ilhoon would have felt the need to point that out to him were he not so very interested on that one particular drop of rainwater that had run down his face only to disappear on the seam of Sungjae’s lips.

Ilhoon took a deep breath, if only for the feeling of control that always seemed to give him despite not actually  _ needing _ to breathe, and commented as blandly as he possibly could, “Did you fall in a lake on your way home?” 

Sungjae, unlike what Ilhoon was expecting, grinned at him. “Nah, the rain is just that strong.”

“You should change before you get sick.” Ilhoon said, hoping that the actual concern he felt hadn’t leaked out of his lips along with the words. Just in case it had, he added, “I’d wager that being stuck here while you’re sick and coughing like a dying man would be a literal definition of hell and I’m already being tortured enough as it is.”

Sungjae chuckled, shaking his head rapidly almost like a dog to dispel the excess water, droplets flying all over the place - including the surface of the mirror, from which they slowly began running down on the glass. Ilhoon sighed.

“I was already planning on doing that, so no need to worry, I’m not getting sick today.”

“Praise the heavens for little mercies.”

Sungjae, snickering, moved to his closet and picked out a ratty old grey shirt and equally tattered sweatpants, leaving them on the bed before searching his drawer for a dry pair of underwear. Ilhoon was not only a little interested in that part, and struggled to keep a straight face when he saw Sungjae pull out a black pair of boxer briefs from there - black was his favorite color, and Sungjae always did look good in black.

He shook his head minutely and blinked quickly to will those thoughts away. Stupid Sungjae didn’t look good, he looked stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, Stupid Yook Sungjae.

As nonchalantly as he could be, Ilhoon just kept leaning there, watching as Sungjae made to take off his wet shirt with rapt attention. He didn’t, though, conscious of Ilhoon’s presence, and looked up to face the sorcerer.

“Uh… Do you mind?”

Ilhoon gave Sungjae a Cheshire grin and kept staring. “Not at all.”

Sungjae blinked, once, then twice, and Ilhoon was very pleased when he saw the blush creeping up his cheeks and down his neck. It was interesting how someone like Sungjae who liked being the center of attention could get so shy when it came down to exposing his own body. Was the girlfriend to blame for that, he wondered. Maybe someday he’d have a chance to ask.

Sungjae shifted his weight from one leg to the other, obviously caught up in some sort of heated debate with himself, until he seemed to reach a conclusion and swept up the clean clothes into his arms, “Nevermind, I’ll change in the bathroom.”

Ilhoon scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Prude.”

Proud of himself for how he managed to keep the disappointment off his tone, Ilhoon watched Sungjae stalk his way out of the bedroom and, once he heard the bathroom door click shut, he let out a long exhale and allowed his shoulders to slump down as if there was a terrible weight upon them. He couldn’t recall feeling like that before he became the permanent resident of an enchanted mirror. No, the Ilhoon from before was confident and sure of himself. That Ilhoon would never act like some dork who’d just discovered that sex was a thing and was faced with a very hot person moments after. No.

It was just the centuries of pent-up frustration and concentrated energy messing up with his head. He would certainly feel attracted to anyone who’d gotten the mirror at that point - that it’d been Sungjae was pure coincidence (or luck), and the fact he was pretty was just a pleasant bonus. He could have ended up with some greasy old man with yellowed teeth and sweat-stained clothes.

So, yeah. Ilhoon was grateful for at least that much respite.

And for all that Sungjae was nice to look at, he was still stupid. Stupid Yook Sungjae. Having the (mental) hots for him was one thing, but Ilhoon didn’t like the way things seemed to be escalating in intensity. How his focus seemed to be shifting from how Sungjae’s ass looked in skinny jeans to if Sungjae was feeling cold, if he’d eaten, if he was getting enough sleep. Those were the types of feelings he should be trying his hardest to  _ avoid _ , as he was stuck inside a mirror and couldn’t act upon them; Pre-Curse Ilhoon would have already pinned Sungjae to the closest flat surface, stupidity and girlfriend be damned, but Post-Curse Ilhoon had developed something akin to a conscience over the years. Sungjae had a girlfriend. Sungjae didn’t trust him. Sungjae would not set him free.

Stupid Yook Sungjae.

Ilhoon closed his eyes again to focus on the sounds of rain falling, hitting the windows. It was difficult to shut off his thoughts when thoughts were all he had to entertain himself for the last few centuries, but it was better than to keep thinking about Sungjae, about his complicated feelings towards him.

He kept his eyes closed even when he heard the bathroom door being opened and Sungjae’s soft footsteps returning to the bedroom. They stopped not far from the mirror, Ilhoon deduced.

“You ok?” Sungjae asked and Ilhoon finally opened his eyes to regard him, finding a concerned expression on his face and a baby blue towel hanging from his head.

“I’m always ok.” Ilhoon shot him a sideways grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just listening to the rain.”

“The rain?” Sungjae echoed.  _ Stupid Yook Sungjae _ . “You like it?”

Ilhoon shrugged. “I used to. It’s hard to say if I still do, but I suppose I do, since I enjoy the sound of it.”

“I don’t know, I mean,” Sungjae said, rubbing the towel on his hair to remove the excess water from it, “I like the sound of fire crackling, but that doesn’t mean I particularly enjoy getting burned.”

Ilhoon snorted at that. “That’s surprisingly insightful coming from you.”

“Thanks! I think.” Sungjae gave him a dubious look, placing his hands on his hips as he gazed thoughtfully up at the ceiling, damp towel hanging from his head. “You know what, hang on.”

Sungjae turned on his heels and left the bedroom again. Ilhoon sighed, shrugging, and leaned against the side of his mirror once more. For all he knew, Sungjae would just return in about five minutes carrying that ‘laptop’ device of his to play ten hours of rain footage. So predictable. Predictable stupid Yook Sungjae.

Ilhoon was not prepared for Sungjae to return in less than thirty seconds, towel no longer on his head or anywhere else in sight, and he was  _ definitely _ not prepared for Sungjae to come so close to the surface of the mirror, chest almost entirely pressed against the glass. Ilhoon’s eyes went wide with shock, and he had the distinct impression his heart would have shot up to his throat if it could still beat. Sungjae was so close, so close Ilhoon could see a drop of water running from his hair down the side of his face, the column of his neck. Could see his Adam’s apple move as he breathed and swallowed, his respiration fogging the glass.

Sungjae— Sungjae was moving the mirror. Taking it off the wall.

Ilhoon panicked almost immediately; was Sungjae finally getting rid of the mirror— of him? Was he going to place the mirror outside, in the rain, an ironic way to end their acquaintanceship? He tried to keep a straight face, not let his apprehension show, intent on keeping his dignity to the very end even as Sungjae heaved the mirror up and began moving out of the bedroom and down the hallway. Should he make a joke about it? No, he should be quiet and wait. Yes. Dignity.

Once they reached the living room, Ilhoon was fully expecting Sungjae to turn around and make for the entrance door which he could see over Stupid Yook Sungjae’s shoulder, right behind him, but no; Sungjae carried him over across the room and placed the mirror on the floor, resting against— Whatever it was. He didn’t know. He could make out curtains behind Sungjae, and his attention was drawn to it for a split second before Sungjae let the mirror go and leaned back— 

And they were face to face, so close Ilhoon could count the strands of damp hair sticking to his forehead, the creases on the skin of his lips, his eyelashes. The different shades of brown in the specs of his eyes. For a split second Ilhoon wished there was no glass between them so he could reach out, touch, but just as fast he dismissed the thought; what was  _ thinking _ ? What was he  _ doing _ ?

There was a beat of silence where they just stood frozen, staring at each other like two lobotomized deer caught in the headlights, but the moment broke just as fast, frail crystal shattering upon the barest pressure. Sungjae jerked and cleared his throat awkwardly, letting go of the mirror and stepping back - and almost tripping over his own feet while he was at it. Ilhoon blinked and shook his head, trying to force his facial features to reset to their usual positions, the ones that made him look disinterested and mildly judgemental, and not— Not lobotomized deer-like

“So, why did you take me off my perch, so to speak?” Ilhoon asked, celebrating in thoughts that his voice didn’t come out different from its natural tone.

“Uhm… Ah, right.” Sungjae said and scrambled to turn around to the curtains. “I thought you’d appreciate a change of scenery.”

“Oh?” Ilhoon teased, ignoring how his stomach felt oddly empty, like a black hole had opened at the bottom of his gut and was sucking everything from inside of him out, leaving a cold void behind. “How very nice of you, what’s the catch?”

“Catch? There’s no catch, I’m just a nice person.” Sungjae responded with a small shrug as he pulled the curtains open, revealing a wide, glass sliding door that led to a small balcony, and beyond it— 

Rain.

The view wasn’t particularly stunning, just tall buildings all around, hiding most of the sky away, but— Rain. He could see the rain. He could see the drops falling from above, hitting the floor of the balcony, running down the glass of the door. Emotion swelled within him, and Ilhoon was glad that he had no physical means to express it - crying over seeing  _ rain _ of all things, in front of Sungjae, would be something too mortifying to even consider.

“There you have it. Rain.” Sungjae motioned awkwardly towards the windows and attempted to shove his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, only to realize belatedly that they did not have pockets at all.

“I— Thank you.” Ilhoon managed to mutter, letting his guard drop for only the time it took to speak the two words. Sungjae smiled to himself, obviously pleased.

Stupid Yook Sungjae.

Sungjae stood there for a moment, eyes darting around as if he didn’t know what to do or say, until he seemed to settle on something and moved to stand— no,  _ sit _ on the ground next to the mirror; Ilhoon could see him fairly well, as Sungjae had chosen a spot a bit forward from the mirror instead of behind it, forward enough that he could see the side of his face perfectly.

He chose to stare ahead, though, out the window, to the rain. He quietly followed the erratic path of the drops of water running down the glass of the door, pretending they were racing in his mind exactly like he used to do when he was a child. How strange it was to be doing that again, so many centuries later in what was, in a way, a different life. And with different company.

He eyed Sungjae, barely turning his head, and found that he, too, was watching the rain fall outside, quiet and still for a change. Ilhoon unknowingly smiled to himself, then at the floor. Stupid Yook Sungjae.

It was comfortable just staying there, side by side, watching as the world outside slowly became dark with the coming of night, the sounds of heavy rain muffling the faraway noises of the street below, the occasional thunder rumbling in the distance. He wished he still had the sense of smell; he missed the scent of wet earth and ozone. He wondered what Sungjae’s hair smelled like.

The thought hit him like a punch, his mind coming to a halt so extreme he could actually hear them like someone suddenly hitting the breaks of a car that had was going too fast, exactly the way he’d seen in Stupid Yook Sungjae’s laptop device.

And as if on cue, so perfect Ilhoon would have thought his magic still worked, lightning struck, thunder cracked, and all the lights in the apartment went out.

Sungjae, next to him, let out an inhuman screech.

There was no helping the burst of laughter that came out of his lips at Sungjae’s reaction - especially when Ilhoon could hear other screams coming from, presumably, the neighbors, and all of those screams sounded like they were coming from children and not, well… Grown ass men, such as Stupid Scaredy Cat Yook Sungjae.

“Shut up, it’s not funny!” Sungjae’s protest only made Ilhoon laugh even harder. “Stop!”

“I can’t believe you got scared of some noise and a little darkness!”

“I wasn’t expecting it, you— You soggy old tasteless biscuit.”

Ilhoon laughed even harder if that was possible. “Fuck, you’re just so precious, a man that size still screaming like a little baby over lightning.”

“You’re an ass.” Sungjae said, giving the mirror a kick on the corner. That only worked to make Sungjae howl with pain and hop around, and Ilhoon only laughed more.

“You know,” Ilhoon said, finally getting a hold on his giggle machine, “if you let me out, I could protect you from the big bad thunder and the spooky darkness.”

It was dark, but not dark enough that he couldn’t see Sungjae turn to him and give him an unamused glance. Ilhoon shot him a greasy side grin in response, coupled with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Nice try, dickface.”

“Dickface? Damn, I must be so very attractive to you, then.”

Sungjae’s screech was not from terror this time.

 

**☽☿☾**

 

It was the little things.

It was the way Sungjae’s hair was always a mess when he woke up in the morning, sticking everywhere as if he’d just jammed his finger in an electrical socket. It was the way he could hear Sungjae singing in the shower sometimes, always a cheesy ballad that contained far too many notes he couldn’t hit. It was how he would say ‘I’m off, see you later’ anytime he left the apartment and ‘hey, I’m back’ when he returned. It was how he would often have food stains on his clothes, sometimes around his mouth or cheek, because he was apparently too clumsy to eat without making a mess of himself.

It was how Sungjae made him feel like a person, instead of— Instead of an object. Instead of a mirror, his prison.

Sungjae— He cared. They might not be  _ friends _ , not yet at the very least, but Sungjae treated him well. Well as he possibly could without freeing him, that is.

He’d been taking him around the apartment more often, sometimes leaving the mirror in the living room so Ilhoon could look outside, sometimes putting him in front of his television to watch movies and other strange programs while he was out. Ilhoon was enjoying it. And kinda hoping Sungjae will take him to the bathroom with him so he could watch him bathe.

He knew that would never happen, but he could dream.

Inside that mirror, there were very few options to kill time besides dreaming.

Sungjae was late that night. Ilhoon was feeling a little antsy, fidgeting around in his tiny prison with concern - he would never admit to it, of course. What if Sungjae was hurt? Kidnapped? He would never know, and even if there was a way for him to find out, there was nothing he could do.

He didn’t want to explore that sentiment, but the thought of Sungjae being hurt distressed him tremendously.

It was 23:36 - as it said on the alarm clock - when the front door was finally unlocked and footsteps made their way into the apartment. Ilhoon stopped moving and perked up, trying to hear more, and sure enough, he heard the door being shut and locked. The relief he felt was instant and it grated on him - he shouldn’t be so worried. Or, well, he  _ should _ worry. About himself.  _ Not _ about Stupid Yook Sungjae.

It was pissing him off, but what could he do about it? Avoid Sungjae? As  _ if _ .

Thanks a lot, Trapped-In-A-Mirror Curse.

He heard Sungjae approach, steps echoing in the hallway, and quickly shook himself and leaned on one side of the mirror, trying to look like he hadn’t been waiting for him like an anxious puppy. Once Sungjae entered the room, however, Ilhoon instantly dropped the pretense and gasped.

“You— You look like shit, what happened?”

Sungjae’s clothes were rumpled, creased in several places, his hair was sticking up on one side and his face was puffy, eyes droopy, dark circles underneath. It was like he’d been trampled by an angry stampede of wild buffaloes.

“Long shift at work, then later shift at the library working on an essay.” Sungjae replied, even his voice sounding tired. “I feel like my eyeballs are about to fall off.”

“That bad?” Ilhoon frowned.

“You have no idea.” Sungjae let his heavy-looking backpack slide down his arm and tossed it aside, not bothering to check where it had landed. Ilhoon was fully expecting him to just drop on his bed and pass out for the rest of the night - which would be completely fine by him, since Sungjae was now home and safe and— He really had to stop that line of thought right there.

Sungjae, however, didn’t drop on the bed.

He turned to Ilhoon, a sleepy-soft smile on his drowsy face, and said, “You must have been lonely, I’m sorry. Want to watch a movie?”

“What?” Ilhoon croaked. “You— You’re dead on your feet and you’re asking me if I want to watch a movie!?”

“Yes. Do you?” Sungjae asked again, moving to his closet to find a change of clothes. “We can watch something funny. Or catch up on Game of Thrones.”

“Game of Thrones  _ is _ funny.”

“I know we both cheered when the prick king died, but even  _ you _ have to admit that killing the little girl was cruel.”

“A sacrifice to the Lord of Light is not cruelty, it is a necessity!”

“Oh my god—”

“The night is dark and full of terrors!”

“Let’s watch Shrek instead.”

“No!”

They both paused, staring at each other, before bursting into a fit of laughter that had Sungjae doubling over himself and Ilhoon hitting the wall next to him, their laughter loud in the otherwise quiet night. They slowly got a hold of themselves, Sungjae wiping a little tear from his eye.

“Holy shit cheeseburger, I think this is the first time I smiled today. Fuck.” Sungjae admitted with a huff.

Ilhoon scoffed, pretending he wasn’t at all affected or concerned with the information. “Yeah, well, you’re welcome.”

Sungjae smiled at him, a brief, casual little thing, but Ilhoon felt it like a particularly heavy brick thrown at ridiculous speed right at his face. Fuck.

He was so very fucked.

To make it even worse, Sungjae didn’t bother leaving the room to change his clothes this time, likely for being too tired to move the few feet to the bathroom. Ilhoon forced himself to look away the moment Sungjae began lifting his shirt; it didn’t feel right to watch him change, which was odd because he’d seen Sungjae in various states of undress before. It shouldn’t make a difference seeing him change his clothes when he had seen him playing with his dick in more than one occasion,  _ and yet _ — it felt wrong. He felt like he was intruding.

He had spent centuries inside that mirror and never  _ once _ had he felt like an intruder before. What was happening, what was Sungjae doing to him?

“Ilhoon?”

Sungjae’s voice startled him and turned to find Stupid watching with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Ilhoon bit his tongue.

“Yeah?”

“Are you ok? You looked—”

“Bored? I am, let’s watch this movie you mentioned.” Ilhoon interrupted, brisk, and motioned towards the side of the room where he usually saw Sungjae take his laptop from. He thought it was some sort of study desk or something, but he had never seen it, so— Whatever.

“Alright, grumpy.” Sungjae sighed and moved to retrieve the laptop, bringing the chair along to use as a table. “Maybe Shrek will be able to turn that frown upside down.”

“Let me out of this mirror so I can punch you in the face.”

“So aggressive.” Sungjae commented idly, setting up his device to play the movie before sitting down in front of the mirror, back against the glass. Ilhoon scooted back as far as he could go - so not very far - and stared at the back of Sungjae’s head as if it was covered in poisonous spiders. “I promise you’ll like this one, everyone likes Shrek.”

Ilhoon was about to reply with something snarky, but for some reason, he held back from doing so. Sungjae certainly didn’t need his sarcasm and never-ending bitterness that night, he was tired enough and was doing him a kindness by offering to watch a movie with him, even if he didn’t need to; he could have just as easily put the movie on for Ilhoon to watch and gone to bed. But he didn’t. He didn’t.

He watched Sungjae fiddle with the laptop, setting up the movie, and soon enough the room was being flooded with the sounds of the opening. Ilhoon forced himself to relax, moving forward a bit so he could watch it more comfortably, without having to stretch his neck.

True to Sungjae’s word, the movie was actually good. Even made him laugh more than a few times. He liked this Shrek. He certainly had the right attitude not wanting people in his swamp - Ilhoon could relate. He’d even sat down to watch it more comfortably, and that wasn’t something he did often.

It was about halfway through the movie that he finally found a reason to look away from the screen and towards Sungjae. He thought Sungjae was turning his head to him to say something, catching the movement from the corner of his eyes, and shifted to give him attention only to find Sungjae deep asleep, head having lolled sideways in Ilhoon’s direction.

Ilhoon was struck with a sentiment he wasn’t at all used to. Sungjae looked— Lovely. There was no other word that came to his mind to describe it. Despite the signs of exhaustion in his features, Sungjae was lovely. He looked— Peaceful. Calm and relaxed, and Ilhoon was in complete awe; how long had it been since someone was so vulnerable, so defenseless in his immediate vicinity? People had come close to the mirror before - usually to pick it up and throw it away - but nobody had— Slept against it. Right next to him. And not looking so beautiful. 

He found himself reaching out, fingertips touching the cold glass where Sungjae’s face was resting. He wanted to touch him. Wanted to run his fingers through his hair, feel the texture, the temperature of his skin. He wanted to breathe in his air and know what his lips tasted like.

Ilhoon hated himself upon realizing such a terrible thing. He despised himself. How could he— Why— Nothing good would come from that, from falling for the (stupid) man who owned the mirror and would not set him free, the (stupid) man who had a girlfriend and would never see him as anything other than a nuisance, the evil sorcerer trapped in the mirror making his life hell, the burden he’d never asked for. He didn’t like it. He wanted to bury that knowledge back into the dark pit of his heart where it’d crawled out from, wanted to pretend he wasn’t aware of it, pretend he still thought of Sungjae as the dumb annoying man he had to trick and convince to release him, but— It was just too much. It was too much and he could feel his unbeating heart breaking.

There was no ignoring it.

Ilhoon rested his head on the glass, eyes unblinking as he stared at sleeping Sungjae. Lovely sleeping Sungjae. His palm was pressed flat against the mirror, pushing it, wanting to break it, to reach through it, just so he could touch Sungjae. Just once. One time would be enough. Then maybe he would get over it. Maybe it was just curiosity. Maybe it was just the centuries of pent-up sexual frustration combined with Sungjae being exactly his type. It could be. Maybe he was just projecting his gratitude and mistaking it for something else.

Maybe it didn’t matter, in the end. He was trapped in the mirror. He would always be trapped in the mirror.

So he just continued to watch Sungjae’s sleeping face, for the first time in decades allowing himself to feel something other than anger.


	4. The pendulum swing manifests in everything;

It started always as a blur of colors - reds and golds and blinding whites. There was a sound too, deep in the background, like— Like a swarm of bees, a buzzing, or like TV static, just white noise. It was disconcerting, disturbing even, but only until a voice sounded in his ears and canceled out that noise. It just said his name, a soft, gentle whisper, like a lover; he would recognize the voice anywhere.

Ilhoon. It was Ilhoon’s voice.

He would say his name and the colors would stop rushing, his mind would quiet down and he would immediately relax - and like a heartsick sailor, adrift at sea, he would follow that voice like a siren song, deeper and deeper into the dark.

And that’s when Sungjae would wake up, startled, sweating, all tangled up in his sheets, heart hammering inside his chest as if it wanted to burst out of his ribcage and run away as fast it could. Run from what? Why? He was never sure of the answers.

That night was no different, jumping up on his bed and almost tumbling out of it and onto to the floor, sweaty hair stuck in tendrils on his forehead and a scream trapped in his throat.

“Sungjae?”

Ilhoon’s voice made Sungjae jump, the memory of the dream still too vivid, too fresh. But no, the intonation was different in the dream, laced with care, not with— Cautious concern.

“Goodness, what is it with you lately?” Ilhoon asked, eyes wide as he stared at him. “It’s the fourth time this week! Are you having nightmares?”

“Buzz off, Ilhoon, I’m fine,” Sungjae grumbled as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Are you sure? You were thrashing around like a fish on dry land,” Ilhoon had his palms pressed against the glass of the mirror as he spoke, almost like— No, no way, why would Ilhoon be worried about him? And to the point of wanting to, what,  _ comfort _ him? What a joke.

“I’m alright. I’ve just been a little on edge lately, is all,” Sungjae said, trying to tone down the annoyance that had started to build up with all the questions; on one hand, he was happy to have someone ask after his well being, but on the other— The person asking was the evil sorcerer trapped inside his mirror. He could even be the one  _ causing _ those dreams in the first place; it was his voice after all.

“Yes, I’ve noticed you’ve been a little— Grouchy.”

“Yeah, well. Dunno what to tell ya,” Sungjae said with a shrug and kicked his bedsheets away so he could get up without tripping (again) and hitting his face on the wall (again) and having Ilhoon laugh at him for the next half hour or so (again). 

“If you tell me what’s the problem I might be able to help,” Ilhoon said.

“From in there?”

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence during which Ilhoon turned away, moving his eyes to the floor, lips pursed so tight they were only a line. Sungjae immediately regretted his tone, his words, and sighed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you, it was unfair.”

“It’s alright.”

More silence. Sungjae shuffled forward a couple steps before stopping again, toes wiggling on the plush rug he had on the bottom of his bed - something he didn’t even need (or want) but that he put there because Sooyoung had given it to him as a housewarming gift. In a quiet voice and without making eye contact, Sungjae spoke, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Ilhoon responded, his voice just as subdued.

“You really can’t use magic from there?”

Ilhoon frowned at the unexpected question, but didn’t hesitate to answer, “No, I can’t.”

“No magic at all? Not even a little bit?”

“Not even a little,” Ilhoon echoed the words. “Why? Did something happen for you to think I can?”

“No, I— I was just making sure,” Sungjae said, and it was only half a lie - he  _ was _ making sure, but not for the reasons Ilhoon seemed to think so. “I’ll go— Bathroom.”

Without waiting for Ilhoon to respond, Sungjae zoomed out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him before moving to sit down on the closed toilet lid. He was shaking, shaking so hard, body overcome with cold shivers, head spinning. What was happening to him? It couldn’t be Ilhoon, or could it? He couldn’t lie, if he said he couldn’t do magic he believed him, but still—

What other explanation was there?

 

**☽☿☾**

 

Something was off about Sungjae lately. Ilhoon had been noticing it, more and more every day. He wasn’t sleeping well, he was always tired, he wasn’t sure if he was eating but he’d lost some visible weight, he wasn’t smiling as much, joking as much.

He didn’t want to admit, not in a thousand years, but he was worried. Sungjae was— He cared about Sungjae. In his heart, he cared. He cared and he was worried.

And if he took into consideration the question he’d asked, about Ilhoon being able to perform magic, then  _ something _ was going on. He didn’t know what it was, had a few theories but none could be proven right if he couldn’t put them to the test, which he could only do if he was outside of the goddamn mirror - and that was Sungjae’s fault, because Ilhoon would be of great fucking help to him around that pigpen of an apartment. Ilhoon knew how to use a broom - he wasn’t sure Sungjae did, though.

Stupid Yook Sungjae who couldn’t even take care of himself properly.

He was probably at work at that moment. Or college. He wasn’t sure which. One of either, since that’s what Sungjae had in his schedule - either he was working or he was studying. Or he was at his girlfriend’s place getting his dick wet or whatever.

Ilhoon made a noise of distaste in the back of his throat, a scoff of disdain.

And as if on cue, he heard the front door open. He immediately perked up, but deflated just as quick - that was not Sungjae’s voice. And those were not Sungjae’s footsteps, unless Sungjae had somehow taken to wearing high heels. And if Sungjae turned out to be two people, because there were two different voices talking; both young, both sounding very feminine.

His girlfriend then. And she brought a friend. Oh, joy!

“I’m sure I left it here somewhere,” he heard the familiar voice of Sungjae’s girlfriend, heard their footsteps - barefeet now, likely having left their shoes by the door - approaching, and sure enough, the bedroom door opened soon after to give way to Sungjae’s girlfriend, followed by a second girl, this one shorter than her, with hair bleached a light brown color.

“Hang on, I’ll just be a second,” the girlfriend - Soo..young? Sooyoung! - said as she stepped inside, walking around Sungjae’s bed and lowering to what Ilhoon assumed was to her knees to search the drawer of his nightstand. Her friend stood by the door, shifting awkwardly as she looked around to the mess that was Sungjae’s room.

“Your boyfriend seems to be… A very interesting person,” the friend said, eyes falling on a figurine of some superhero or another on a nearby shelf.

Sooyoung snorted from where she was kneeling, “That’s one way to put it.” She pulled a mess of wires and cords from inside the drawer, grimacing at it, and tried to pull the thing apart with her fingers impatiently. “Oh for— I keep telling him not to ball everything up like this!”

“Uhm… Sooyoung?” the friend called from the door. “Is this place haunted or something?”

“What? Why are you asking that?” Sooyoung questioned and frowned, turning to face her friend.

“I don’t know, I— When we came in here, I felt—” she trailed off, shrugged, smiled stiffly, and finished her sentence, “I feel like we’re being watched.”

Ilhoon arched an eyebrow at that, impressed; that friend sure had a very good sixth sense.

Sooyoung sighed and closed the drawer with a soft click before standing up again, the wire ball still in her hands. “Sungjae acts weird when he’s in his room too. I think— I think he might be losing it.”

Ilhoon narrowed his eyes at her, his attention doubled now that Sungjae was involved. So that’s what she thought of him? That he was ‘losing it’? For some reason, Ilhoon took offense in Sungjae’s stead.

“What do you mean?” her friend asked.

“He’s been acting really strange, ever since—” Sooyoung stopped herself and pondered for a second, “I think ever since he moved in here. At least around that time, he started acting off. Not eating, not sleeping, always staring into space. He’s barely even spending time with me.”

“Weren’t you happy about that, at least? You said he was clingy,” the friend commented. Ilhoon leaned forward, more and more interested as he listened in.

Sooyoung huffed and pouted, her attention shifting to the wires in her hands again, “He was, but at least then I knew he cared about me! Now he just— He brushes me off, he keeps giving me excuses when I say I want to come over, he won’t even have sex with me!”

Ilhoon snorted at that, the sound making Sami peek her head out from under the bed where she’d been hiding to stare right at him. Her appearance startled the friend, who jumped with the sudden appearance of Sungjae’s cat and yelped.

“Oh for— Oh, it’s just a kitty, hi!” she crouched down to the floor and began making clicking noises to try and get Sami to get close to her. Sami stared at her for a moment and hid under the bed again. The girl pouted. “I don’t think she likes me.”

“Sami doesn’t like anyone, it’s nothing personal,” Sooyoung said, brushing the matter off, “all she does is skulk around now. She used to be friendlier too.”

“I really think this place is haunted,” the friend said, standing up and looking around cautiously.

“Oh please, it’s not haunted,” Sooyoung said, managing to free one of the wire from the tangle. “Got it! Wait, no, this is Sungjae’s charger, not mine.”

“If it’s not haunted, then how do you explain his weird behavior? And his cat’s!”

“Honestly?” Sooyoung said with a long, drawn-out sigh. “I think he’s doing drugs.”

Ilhoon choked with the surprise of that statement and burst into laughter, and again Sami came out of her hiding spot to see why he was making noise. Ilhoon turned to her and, pointing to Sooyoung, asked, “Did you hear that!? She thinks your papa is on drugs!”

Sami cocked her head to the side, eyes glued to his face, and Sooyoung’s friend followed her line of sight to the mirror and frowned.

“What is she looking at?”

Sooyoung looked over at Sami, then at the mirror, then rolled her eyes, shoving the ball of wires back inside the drawer. “She probably saw a bug or something.” She then pulled another wire from the drawer with an exclamation of victory, “Found it!”

Ilhoon decided to freak them out a little bit. Just for fun. Just because he was bored.

He lowered himself to a crouch, making sure Sami was following him with her eyes, then stood up again and crouched, very slow. Sami watched him go up and down, her eyes and head moving along with him, until he suddenly yelled “BOO!” and she jumped and took off running to the living room. Sooyoung’s friend yelped and hopped out of the way, eyes wide as saucers as she stared at the mirror, visibly shaken. Even Sooyoung looked weirded out.

“S-seungwan, we should— We should probably get going,” Sooyoung stuttered.

“I agree.”

And saying so, both of them scurried out of the room, and soon after Ilhoon heard the door closing with a loud  _ bang _ .

He smiled, satisfied with himself, even if he was still deeply bothered by what he’d heard Sooyoung say about Sungjae. He would have jumped to his defense if he could have, but— Sooyoung couldn’t see or hear him. He couldn’t do anything to defend Sungjae from that slander, and he owed Sungjae much - it was all about gratitude.

...Alright, it wasn’t, but he could try to keep telling himself that. Maybe he’d believe it eventually.

 

**☽☿☾**

 

Ilhoon still hadn’t managed to distract himself from the happenings of that afternoon by the time Sungjae arrived home. It was late, past ten in the evening according to the clock sitting on Sungjae’s nightstand, and Sungjae definitely looked like he’d been chewed up and spat out -  _ that _ bad.

“Are you ok?” Ilhoon couldn’t help but ask upon taking one look at him. “You look— Ill.”

“I’m fine,” Sungjae answered with a high sigh, dropping his backpack on the floor and all but flopping on his bed. “I’m just so fucking tired.”

“Uh… Not that I give a damn, because I don’t,” Ilhoon started, “but maybe you should see a doctor.”

Sungjae scoffed, “If you don’t give a damn, why are you telling me that?”

“Because you look like crap and it tires my eyes.”

“Right,” Sungjae mumbled and sat up, his expression changing minutely. “Was Sooyoung here today?”

Ilhoon tensed up, lips pursed. “Why do you ask?”

“I can smell her perfume.”

“What are you, a bloodhound?” Ilhoon teased, hoping it would ease his own nerves - it didn’t work. “Yes, she was here. Brought a friend with her, too.”

“A friend?” Sungjae frowned. He looked so, so tired.

“Yeah. Short, honey-colored hair, a little on the chubby side, really cute.”

“Oh. Seungwan. I know her, she’s nice.”

“I think I scared the crap out of her,” Ilhoon said, a grin spreading over his face. “Sorry?”

Sungjae snorted and shook his head. Ilhoon wanted to believe the action was as fond as it seemed to be.  “How did you do that?”

“Let’s just say Sami gave me a helping paw.”

“You really have to stop scaring my cat,” Sungjae slowly got up from the bed and began moving to his closet. Halfway there, he took off his shirt - because  _ of course he did _ . Ilhoon quickly looked away. “What did they want here?”

“I think your girlfriend was looking for her phone charger.”

“Oh, right! I was meaning to take it to her, but if she’s got it already I guess that’s that,” Sungjae said with a shrug, rummaging his closet for something to wear.

“Yeah, that’s that,” Ilhoon echoed and decided to just keep his mouth shut after that. Sungjae was shirtless and the darkest side of him wanted to break through that mirror and leave his name across Sungjae stomach with bite marks, and that paired with the conversation he overheard earlier that was still bothering him meant he was bound to say something stupid. Better to stay quiet.

Sungjae pulled a change of clothes from his closet and was already closing the door when he suddenly stopped, a thoughtful scowl on his pret—  _ Stupid _ face. Not pretty. Pretty? What the fuck—

Sungjae turned to him, pushing the closet door closed the rest of the way and asked, “Did anything else happen while Sooyoung was here today?”

Oh. Shit.

Ilhoon shrugged, examining his nails like they were fascinating, Sungjae’s eyes burning holes in him. “No, nothing.”

“Bullshit, spit it out.”

“Nothing happened,” Ilhoon repeated, raising his eyes to meet Sungjae’s. He didn’t want to repeat what Sooyoung had said. Didn’t want to hurt Sungjae’s feelings, didn’t want to make him sad.

Sungjae sighed, the sound heavy and drawled out. Ilhoon felt a pang in his unbeating heart; he sounded exhausted. He wished he could do something, anything that would help Sungjae, but being trapped inside that damn mirror made it impossible.

And Sungjae would never believe Ilhoon wanting to be out for his benefit.

“Can you just tell me? Please?” Sungjae asked, and how could Ilhoon say ‘no’ when he sounded so tired? So defeated?

“Fine,” Ilhoon groaned. “Your girlfriend… She said some things.”

“Some things?” Sungjae parroted, one eyebrow rising. “What things?”

“Sungjae—”

“Just tell me.”

Ilhoon stared at Sungjae for a moment, weighing his choices, but there was a part of him that wanted to tell him even if it hurt, because that would give him a chance to win Sungjae over, a chance to get the girlfriend out of the way, and it was ugly and childish and mean and pathetic, but Ilhoon didn’t care. He was, as established, evil. He was the evil sorcerer trapped in the mirror, so it was only right that he would do evil deeds. Such as breaking up Sungjae’s relationship.

And yet—

“She said— Shit, Sungjae, I really don’t want to repeat it,” Ilhoon said, a little whinier than he intended.

“Then I’m just going to let my imagination run wild, which might be worse than the truth,” Sungjae pointed out, and since when was Stupid Yook Sungjae smart? “Seriously, what is it? Did she say I have a small dick or something? ‘Cause I can take that.”

Ilhoon scoffed. “We both know your dick is not small. It’s perfectly average sized.”

Sungjae blushed furiously at that. “Uh… Thanks, I guess?”

“You are most welcome.”

“Now what did she say?”

“She said… Ok, fine,” Ilhoon declared, running a hand through his hair. He really wanted to cut his hair. It was too long. Sungjae probably thought he looked stupid with his hair long like that, past his shoulders. Maybe he should spend his time coming up with ways to tie his hair. And maybe he was thought-stalling not to have to tell Sungjae what he wanted to know, but he wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever. “First she said that she thinks you’re going insane. Then she said that she suspects that you’re doing drugs.”

Sungjae’s expression was hard to read, blank, and Ilhoon didn’t like it. Not even a little bit. “Oh. I see.”

“Sungjae—”

“It’s fine. My girlfriend thinks I’m a crazy druggie, that’s— That’s alright,” Sungjae said, nodding rapidly, manically. “It’s fucking fantastic.”

“Sungjae, come on—”

“I’ll go take a shower, see you in a bit.”

And without waiting for a reply, Sungjae scurried out of the bedroom.

That sure went well. 

 

**☽☿☾**

 

Sungjae wasn’t getting better.

Ilhoon felt guilt at the pit of his stomach; if it weren’t for him, Sungjae would certainly be doing better. He wouldn’t have to deal with his own girlfriend calling him crazy, wouldn’t be spending his nights tossing and turning, wouldn’t have to deal with Ilhoon’s insufferable presence. And wasn’t that the kicker - Ilhoon was  _ meant _ to be insufferable to coax Sungjae into either releasing him or handing the mirror over to someone who would, and now… He didn’t want to annoy Sungjae anymore. He wanted— The exact opposite. He wanted to take care of him and watch over him, make sure he was safe and healthy and happy, and it was disgusting on an existential level.

It wasn’t like him to be so soft and caring. He was an  _ evil _ sorcerer for a reason, he wasn’t a fairy tale wizard who made love potions and talked to birds. More and more he was coming to the realization that he was… Falling. 

He remembered the last time that happened. It didn’t end well - that stupid mirror was a constant reminder.

He didn’t want to fall again, and yet… Sungjae happened. Stupid Yook Sungjae was happening to him like a tsunami happens to a coastal city, inevitable and unpredictable and devastating. Like a disease that eats you up from inside out and you don’t realize it until you have one foot on the grave and it’s too late to do anything about it. Sungjae was something he couldn’t turn back from, something that had no cure, no fixing, because the damage was already done. Sungjae had already left his handprint on Ilhoon’s soul, and he couldn’t wash it away or pretend it wasn’t there.

In other words, he was fucked.

It had been a few days since Sooyoung’s visit. Sungjae was getting more and more sad every day, looking more and more tired every time Ilhoon laid eyes on him. If he wasn’t trapped in that mirror he could do something about that, but Sungjae would never believe he only meant to help him - his intentions would always sound like a trick or an excuse. There was no point in trying to convince Sungjae of his sincerity.

Watching Sungjae wilt in front of him was torture, though. He wanted to do  _ something, _ anything to help, but what could he do? He could think of a series of potions and spells that would help, but for any of them he would need to use magic, and he couldn’t use magic being trapped inside the mirror. His only other option was -  _ ugh  _ \- talk to him, but Ilhoon was terrible at talking about feelings. Icky, useless little things they were.

It was Sunday - he knew it was Sunday because Sungjae stayed in bed for much longer than he usually did, so that meant he had nowhere to go in the morning. He had watched Sungjae toss and turn through the night again, but around the time the sun began to rise Sungjae settled down and slept more easily. Good - he hoped he slept until the afternoon.

While Sungjae slept, Ilhoon had the time to come up with something they could talk about that would, somehow, someway, get Sungjae’s mind off his life woes for a while. Maybe tell him a few knock-knock jokes? No, he was terrible at telling jokes, he always ruined the punchline. It would have to be conversation. He was also terrible at conversation - especially if the conversation was  _ polite _ conversation, because he was a bit of an ass. He was aware of it and proud.

He definitely didn’t want to open his heart and tell Sungjae his deepest and darkest secrets, but maybe he could share a little bit about himself. Like his favorite color or something. That was a good way to bond, right?

Like he’d hoped, Sungjae got up past noon, dark hair mussed and messy, and that combined with how puffy his face was from sleep was just too endearing. Ilhoon could barely contain a coo. Even as he squinted at Ilhoon and croaked a ‘good morning’ before clumsily sliding off his bed, looking every bit like a hobo, Ilhoon was still very much smitten - he hated how whipped he was getting.

He watched as Sungjae walked back and forth, from his bed to the closet, from the closet to the bathroom, from the bathroom back to the room, quiet and looking not only a little surly. It was all there, the defeated lines of his shoulders, the aura of melancholy about him, the glazed look in his eyes - Ilhoon wanted to do something. He was going to do something.

He found it in himself to do it when Sungjae was about halfway through making his bed, clearing his throat as discreetly as possible to make sure his voice was alright before going for it.

“So… What’s your favorite color?” Ilhoon awkwardly asked and Sungjae arched an eyebrow at him, both confused and suspicious.

“You— You’re trying to start a conversation with me?”

Ilhoon wasn’t expected to be answered with a question, which put him in defense mode immediately. “What if I am?”

“No reason, just— Surprised,” Sungjae said, and Ilhoon was  _ pretty _ sure he didn’t imagine the faint smile that crept on his lips.

“If that’s how it’s going to be then I take it bac—”

“Red,” Sungjae said before Ilhoon could finish speaking. “Red, and black too, I guess.”

“Black is the absence of color, though,” Ilhoon smartly pointed out, all defensiveness having been bled out of him when Sungjae answered the question.

“I guess the absence of color is a color too,” Sungjae mused with a shrug, continuing to make his bed. “Void color.”

“Hm. Maybe. White is the opposite, white is like— All colors combined.”

Sungjae stopped what he was doing and turned back to face him with a frown between his brows. “How is that possible? Whenever I mixed all colors together back in kindergarten I always ended up with like, poop brown.”

Ilhoon snorted at the answer and said, “No, not like that. If you put a rainbow on a wheel and spin it really fast, you’ll see white. If you just mix it all with paint, then yeah, it’s gonna be poop brown.”

“How do you even know all this?” Sungjae questioned, and Ilhoon could tell he wasn’t just asking - Sungjae  _ really _ wanted to know the answer. It was… So refreshing.

“A painter owned this mirror once. I picked up a thing or two.”

Sungjae hummed, contemplative, and said, “You’re probably not learning much from me, it must be boring.”

“On the contrary,” Ilhoon replied without giving it much thought, “I’m learning plenty.”

It was true. Ilhoon was learning plenty - about how Sungjae liked his coffee, how he would sometimes tear up while watching a movie, how he sucked at video games but managed to have fun anyway. How he would often hide pain behind a smile and a joke. How kind and considerate he was, even to Ilhoon no matter if he’d never done anything to deserve it.

Sungjae made a noise, a thing that was a strange mix between a scoff and whimper. “Learning how to be a complete and utter failure in life, maybe.”

Oh. Well. That got real very fast.

“You’re not a failure,” Ilhoon said, defensive as if Sungjae talking down on himself was a personal offense.

“I thought you’ve been watching?” Sungjae asked over his shoulder, his eyes not meeting Ilhoon’s. He was making his bed with more aggression than necessary, for certain. “I’m miserable and tired every day, I barely have any free time lately, my own girlfriend thinks I’m crazy or doing drugs—”

“Sungjae, stop,” Ilhoon interrupted with a soft exhale. He couldn’t just stand there and listen to Sungjae belittle himself like that. “Come here.”

Sungjae turned halfway towards Ilhoon, a look of suspicion on his face. “Why?”

“Why not?”

“Stop talking me in circles,” Sungjae whined dropping the comforter in a pile on top of the wrinkled grey sheets as if giving up.

“I’m serious, why not? What could I possibly do? Leave a smudge on the glass at you?” Ilhoon asked in a deadpan; the tips of Sungjae’s ears turned pink.

Sungjae hesitated for a moment longer, fidgeting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, until he finally caved and padded awkwardly to stand in front of the mirror. “What?”

Ilhoon watched Sungjae’s face for a moment now that he was closer, took in the lines of his face, the deep dark circles under his eyes. “What’s been going on?”

Sungjae blinked, the only outward reaction of surprise, and shrugged. “Nothing.”

Ilhoon merely arched an eyebrow at him, only a couple seconds of staring needed for Sungjae to break.

“Ugh, fine. I’ve been tired, is all.”

“And?”

“And what?” Sungjae threw back, doing his best at trying to play dumb. Which, granted, wasn’t hard for Sungjae to accomplish, but from that close, there was no way for Sungjae to mask his obvious act as genuine dumbness.

“We both know there’s way more to it, so spill,” Ilhoon said and made a brief motion with his hand. “What’s eating at you?”

Sungjae chewed on his lips, crossed his arms, used his right foot to scratch the back of his left calf, clearly measuring the pros and cons of speaking of his thoughts out loud. Ilhoon waited, using that patience one can only achieve after being trapped for eons inside a mirror, until Sungjae was finally ready to talk.

“I just— I think I made a few mistakes,” he said at last, and Ilhoon simply cocked his head to the side to prompt him to elaborate. “Bad life choices, you know?”

“Huh. Bad choices,” Ilhoon echoed. “Any particular choice you regret?”

“Giving in to my parents’ wants, I guess. Studying something I have no interest in because that’s what they thought was best,” Sungjae said, running a hand through his hair.

“You never mentioned what you’re studying in college,” Ilhoon pointed out.

“Hotel management,” Sungjae answered with a grimace. “My parents own a small hotel, and they want me to work there and take over someday.”

“Ah. I see,” Ilhoon said and sighed. “A classic problem.”

“Yeah,” Sungjae lowered his gaze to the floor. “Hotel management is— It’s not  _ bad _ . Some things are sort of interesting, I just—”

“Have no passion about hotel management,” Ilhoon finished in Sungjae’s stead, receiving a short nod in confirmation that he was right. “I understand how that can take a toll.”

“You do?” Sungjae’s eyes snapped back up to meet Ilhoon’s, expression as surprised as his voice tone.

“I wasn’t always trapped in a mirror,” Ilhoon smartly reminded him. “Back in the day things like this were everywhere. You lived for the family, worked for the family, didn’t stray from what was expected of you. So yes, I can understand.”

“Oh,” Sungjae sounded somewhat shy, as if he was supposed to know those things without Ilhoon having to spell them out. Stupid. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. All of them are dead now,” Ilhoon said without thinking and immediately regretted it. He didn’t mean to say so much, sound so bitter, so melancholic, but alas. The way Sungjae pursed his lips in reaction to it wasn’t a good sign, so Ilhoon decided to shift the focus back to him. “If you don’t like hotel management, then what did you want to study?”

Sungjae opened his mouth but closed it just as fast, shaking his head. “It’s— It’s silly.”

“Sungjae,” Ilhoon groaned, “I’ve seen you masturbate, you can’t possibly expose yourself to me more than you already have.”

“Nice talk, I’m leaving now,” Sungjae said and turned to leave as he said he would, but Ilhoon laughed and called him back.

“Come on, I’m just teasing you. I really want to know.”

“You won’t make fun of me?” Sungjae asked, suspicious as they come, and Ilhoon raised his left hand and placed his right one over his heart.

“I swear I won’t make fun of you.”

Sungjae hesitated for a couple of seconds more, but finally said, “I wanted to be a singer.”

“A singer,” Ilhoon echoed, nodding slowly as he digested the information. “It’s not a bad dream to have.”

Sungjae’s entire demeanor softened with relief - it was a little insulting really, that Sungjae thought Ilhoon would make fun of something so personal. Granted, his track record wasn’t the best with all the dick jokes and reminders of how he’d seen Sungjae playing with himself, but dreams were something he would never make fun of - he was evil, sure, but not  _ that _ evil. 

“You couldn’t even pursue it as a hobby now?” Ilhoon suggested, seeing that Sungjae was still too shocked to speak. “It could give you a little balance. Something to look forward to.”

“I don’t know,” Sungjae said, shrugging. “I don’t really have the time now, with college and work.”

“Maybe you should make time.”

“It’s not that easy,” Sungjae said before plopping down on the ground in front of the mirror, cross-legged and hunched over in defeat. Ilhoon blinked, surprised with the change in position, but sat down too so they could be eye-level.

“It could be,” Ilhoon softly said, leaning on the wall next to him and resting his head on it. “You mortals like finding excuses to keep yourselves from what you want, but the real truth is, you have the freedom to make your own choices. Your problem is fear. Fear and comfort.”

Sungjae huffed and hugged his own knees against his chest. “I guess you’re right.”

“I usually am,” Ilhoon agreed. “You’re scared of failing in something you love, and you are in a situation that feels safe and comfortable to you. That is the only thing stopping you.”

“I don’t know, Ilhoon,” Sungjae said, and Ilhoon was quick to pretend that hearing Sungjae saying his name didn’t do things to his unbeating heart. “Isn’t it too late? I’m too old to start taking singing lessons.”

“It’s only too late if you’re dead.”

“Harsh.”

“But also true.”

“You make this sound so easy,” Sungjae grumbled. 

“Because you keep making excuses to make it sound hard,” Ilhoon responded, looking at Sungjae in the eyes. “The only thing I have to do all day every day is watching you wilt more and more. You’re burning out. You don’t do anything for yourself, you only do things for other people. You need to make time for you too.”

“But singing lessons—”

“It doesn’t have to be singing. Do something that makes you happy for a change, instead of just going with the motions.”

“What would you do?” Sungjae suddenly asked, and Ilhoon frowned, confused. Noticing such, Sungjae elaborated, “If you weren’t trapped inside the mirror, what would you do?”

Ilhoon snorted, not amused in the slightest. “I don’t even know. I don’t like thinking about it anymore, it gives me hope when I know there is none.”

“Try thinking about it now.”

“Sungjae—”

“Just humor me.”

Ilhoon glared at Sungjae for a moment before sighing in defeat and rolling his eyes. “I honestly have no idea.”

“What did you want to do before you got stuck in there?”

“I didn’t ‘get stuck’, I was put in here against my will.”

“You know what I mean.”

Ilhoon thought for a second, trying to drag his memories all the way back, back to his roots, back to when he had a chance at happiness and freedom, before he took it all for granted. “I liked writing.”

“Writing?” Sungjae parroted. “Like writing stories?”

Ilhoon shook his head minutely, feeling exposed and vulnerable in ways he hadn’t felt in ages. He couldn’t even hold Sungjae’s gaze, instead looking down at the floor. “Poems.”

“Oh,” Sungjae exhaled. “No offense, but I never took you for a poet.”

Ilhoon laughed to himself, not only a little bitter. “None taken. It’s not something I shared with anyone anyway, I don’t think anybody  ever pegged me as the poetry type.”

“I wish I could have read something you wrote,” Sungjae said in a soft tone. If Ilhoon’s heart could beat, it would probably be close to breaking out of his ribcage at that moment.

“I wasn’t very good,” Ilhoon said, trying to fight the urge to smile. “I like to think they were at least decent.”

“I’m sure your poems were great,” Sungjae insisted with that dumb smile of his plastered on his face. Ilhoon felt funny in the stomach area, which was strange considering his stasis.

“But you know,” Ilhoon started, shifting so he was sitting properly instead of slumped against the wall, “while I really liked writing, that’s not even what I miss the most.”

“Oh? What do you miss the most?”

“What I miss the most,” Ilhoon said, holding up three fingers and lowering them down one by one as he listed, “is eating, sleeping, and fucking.”

Sungjae snorted and shook his head, clearly amused. “I can’t even judge you for that, those are probably the things I’d miss the most too.”

“A man after my own heart,” Ilhoon said, with more confidence than he felt he had, and to his delight, Sungjae’s cheeks turned rosy. “Really, that’s all I can think of doing if I ever get out of here. A warm meal, a warm bed, and a warm body.”

“That doesn’t sound half bad,” Sungjae muttered, and it was almost like he was talking to himself and not Ilhoon.

“Yeah. I can’t even remember the taste of food, or how it feels to sleep,” Ilhoon said, quiet and slow, almost shy, “or what it feels like to be near someone, be touched—”

Their eyes met seemingly of their own accord and it felt— Charged, somehow. Like there was something there, just out of reach but still present. Fire and electricity, quicksand, riptides, an entire earthquake, but held back, kept caged in. Ilhoon almost wanted to break the dam and let it all out, tell Sungjae to let him out so he could kiss his stupid face, but—

The sound of the front door opening broke the moment, and both of them blinked and turned to face the open bedroom door, the sounds of footsteps coming from the living towards them.

“Sungjae?” called a voice that Ilhoon knew very well by now - his girlfriend. Ilhoon cleared his throat and got up, set on pretending he was fine with it. He didn’t want to watch them being lovey-dovey in front of him after the moment he’d shared with Sungjae, after feeling so close to him.

Sungjae sighed and pushed himself up from the floor too, just as Sooyoung entered the room. She stopped short after taking in the scene - Sungjae, getting up from where he’d been sitting staring at the mirror. That certainly didn’t make Sungjae’s mental health look that good, considering she already suspected him to be going a little bit insane.

She frowned and stared at Sungjae with concern for a moment. “You— What were you doing just now?”

Sungjae opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, and looked from Ilhoon to Sooyoung at a loss. “I— I was—”

“Playing with Sami,” Ilhoon supplied, helpful like he rarely was.

“Playing with Sami,” Sungjae promptly repeated, and Sooyoung shook his head.

“No way, Sami is asleep in the living room, I just saw her.”

“...Oh,” Sungjae dumbly said and looked over at Ilhoon with pleading eyes. Ilhoon gave him a helpless shrug and a head shake, but again Sooyoung interjected.

“What are you looking at the mirror for?”

“Uhm— Nothing?” Sungjae said with a questioning lilt, and of course Sooyoung saw the bullshit right through it.

“That’s it, you better tell me what’s been going on right now!” she demanded, and Ilhoon wanted to somehow step in, put himself between her and Sungjae and tell her that he was responsible for it all, that she shouldn’t blame Sungjae. That Sungjae was good and kind and a good boyfriend, but that Ilhoon had slotted himself into his life and fucked everything up for him.

He couldn’t. She couldn’t hear or see him.

“Nothing’s been going on!” Sungjae replied, and immediately Ilhoon knew that was the wrong answer from the way Sooyoung’s expression darkened.

“You’ve been acting all sorts of weird lately! I’m worried!” Sooyoung said, direct and with no preamble. She glanced at the mirror, pursing her lips. “Are you obsessed with this thing or something?”

“Of course not,” Sungjae said, meek in the face of Sooyoung’s frustration.

“Then what is it!? Every time you get near this damn mirror you act like you’re insane!”

Sungjae didn’t reply, instead averting his eyes from Sooyoung to the mirror - to Ilhoon. Ilhoon met his eyes and gave him a helpless look, unsure of what to do, what to say. He was torn; he wanted to tell Sungjae to save his relationship, to tell Sooyoung he was sorry and that he would give the mirror away, sell it, get rid of it somehow, but at the same time— He didn’t want that to happen. Didn’t want to be away from him.

“What!? What is it with this thing?” Sooyoung demanded, coming to stand next to Sungjae and search the surface of the mirror for anything that could be catching Sungjae’s eyes. “It’s just a mirror!”

“A-ah, right,” Sungjae dumbly agreed. “It’s just a mirror. Maybe I’ll put it in the living room instead—”

“What are you looking at?” Sooyoung put her hands on her hips and stared right into Sungjae’s eyes after speaking, like she was challenging him to tell her the truth. “What do you see in there?”

“A handsome young man,” Ilhoon deadpanned, and maybe that was the wrong thing to do because Sungjae— He giggled. Sooyoung looked like she was very close to start spitting fire.

“What are you laughing at!? Sungjae, look, I’m worried about you, so just please tell me the truth so we can get you help,” Sooyoung said, tone softening, and Sungjae turned to her, all traces of laughter gone from his features.

“Help?”

“Sungjae—” Sooyoung started then interrupted herself, looking pained and hesitant. “Are you doing drugs?”

Sungjae scoffed and shook his head. “Ah, there it is.”

Sooyoung frowned. “What? You knew? Did Seungwan tell you something?”

“No, she didn’t tell me anything,” Sungjae said. “I’m not doing drugs, Sooyoung, I’m perfectly sober.”

“Then maybe we should get you a doctor or something—”

“Are you implying you think I’m crazy?” Sungjae asked, then laughed, bitter. “I suppose that’s fair, I know I haven’t been myself lately, but you’re my girlfriend, you’re supposed to talk to  _ me _ about stuff like this instead of gossiping about me to your friends!”

“What? I didn’t—”

“You did!”

“Did Seungwan—”

“It wasn’t her! Look, let’s just drop this, I’m fine, I’m not going insane, I’m not doing drugs, I’m barely even drinking anything other than water lately, so—”

“What about that?” Sooyoung asked, pointing at the mirror.

“That’s just a mirror,” Sungjae said, glancing at Ilhoon apologetically. Ilhoon tried to smile at him, a way to reassure him. It probably didn’t work.

“Fine, great, then you can get rid of it.”

The color all but drained from Sungjae’s face and he whipped his head around to stare at Sooyoung. “What? I— No—”

“If it’s just a mirror then what’s wrong with throwing it away?” Sooyoung challenged, arms crossed and expression hard as stone.

“It’s— I’m—” Sungjae babbled, looking from Sooyoung to Ilhoon and back again to Sooyoung.

“Sungjae,” Ilhoon said, soft and careful, “just do what she wants, don’t ruin your relationship because of me.”

Sungjae made a pained noise in the back of his throat, and that, of course, didn’t go over well with his girlfriend.

“What!? Is it so hard?” Sooyoung questioned. “If it’s just a mirror why are you hesitating?”

“Sungjae, just do it, just—” Ilhoon started at the same time as she was speaking, reason gone and only instinct left behind, but Sungjae interrupted both Ilhoon and Sooyoung.

“Shut up!”

Ilhoon wasn’t sure if that was directed at him or her or both of them, but Sooyoung seemed to have reached her very last straw.

“That’s it!” Sooyoung hissed the words and marched over to a nearby stool, grabbing it with both hands and stomping her way back to the mirror.

Ilhoon realized what was happening faster than Sungjae did and stepped back, quickly hitting the furthermost wall inside his tiny little cage, just as Sooyoung raised the stool over her head and aimed it at the mirror. Ilhoon knew that mirror couldn’t be broken by a mundane thing like a wooden stool, but he flinched anyway, hunching over against the wall and bringing up his hands to protect his face. No impact came, though.

“Sooyoung, what the fuck!?” Sungjae had finally caught on and put himself between the mirror and his enraged girlfriend, trying to take the stool from her hands right before Sooyoung brought it down on the glass. “What are you thinking!?”

“It’s just a fucking mirror, Sungjae!” she shouted, struggling to keep Sungjae from taking the stool from her. She gave up after a while, her strength no match to Sungjae’s, and let him take the stool away. “I can’t do this anymore!”

Oh. Oh, no.

“You either get rid of this thing or we’re over!” Sooyoung declared, firm, a clear ultimatum.

Ilhoon was shaking like a leaf after the sudden rush of emotions, something he wasn’t used to anymore after so many years of monotony, but he still found it in himself to pay attention to what was happening outside. How Sungjae fell silent, how hard Sooyoung was breathing.

Ilhoon looked up at Sungjae. Sungjae was already looking at him, wide-eyed and lost.

“Sungjae—” Ilhoon said, voice wavering. “Just do what she wants.”

Sungjae immediately shook his head, and that was it. The action that ended that entire confrontation.

Sooyoung scoffed and nodded, bitter, throwing her hands up in the air in a sign of defeat. “Whatever. Five years in the trash, just like this. Fine, whatever, have it your way,” Sooyoung said, and looking at Sungjae one more time, eyes filled to the brim with tears, told him, “I’ll come by some other time to get my things, I can’t— I can’t be here right now.”

And saying that, she turned around and left, her footsteps and the sound of the door closing loud in the silence that followed. Ilhoon was still shaking but managed to approach the glass again, staring at Sungjae with concern. Sungjae was staring at the door, eyes glazed and unseeing, like he just couldn’t fully understand what happened. Ilhoon wanted to break through that mirror just so he could shake some sense into him.

“Sungjae?” Ilhoon called, hitting the glass softly with his palm to get Sungjae’s attention. It didn’t work. “Sungjae, what are you doing, go after her!”

Sungjae opened his mouth and closed it again, making no move to follow his now ex-girlfriend. Instead, he turned to face Ilhoon.

“Are you alright?”

Ilhoon was so shocked at the question that he completely forgot how to speak for a couple of seconds. “I— Why are you asking me if I’m fine, your girlfriend just—”

“I know,” Sungjae interrupted him, running when hand through his hair in frustration, eyes lowered to the ground. “I know.”

Ilhoon huffed an incredulous breath and shook his head, slumping against one of the sides of his prison. He was silent for a long moment, allowing both of them to get their bearings, and softly he said, “I’m alright.”

Sungjae raised his eyes to met Ilhoon’s one more time and smiled at him, a smile that was unsure and brittle but present nonetheless. It was— a start. It was a start.

“Are  _ you _ alright?” Ilhoon asked. Sungjae didn’t answer for a while, pondering over his answer.

Finally, he said, “No. I’m not.” He took a deep breath, looked towards the door again. Ilhoon could tell he was holding back from crying. He wanted to do something, wanted to comfort him, but he couldn’t.

Everything was going downhill very fast, and Ilhoon was unable to stop anything from happening.

If only it was possible to break the mirror. Maybe that was the best outcome possible.


	5. All truths are but half-truths;

One week went by, then two.

Sungjae had been more depressed than usual, out of the house only to study and work, and asleep the rest of the time. His sleep was always the same, too - troubled, whatever was plaguing him making him toss and turn and whimper helplessly in his slumber, rarely letting up so Sungjae could actually rest. Ilhoon was trying to help as best he could - asking how he was feeling, offering to talk or just listen to him. He even tried humor a few times, but there wasn’t much he could do. Not from in there.

Sungjae needed comfort, and Ilhoon— He was never a comforting person. Ilhoon was too far gone to be able to lie to himself and pretend he didn’t want to cradle Sungjae like the big baby he was and rock him until he felt better, hold him in his arms or cuddle up to him to sleep. Being outside he could make himself useful, he could make sure Sungjae was well taken care of, well fed, could make him potions to help him sleep or even to ease the heartache, could brew teas that could lift his spirits. He couldn’t do any of that.

He wanted to. He didn’t think he ever wanted something so bad, more than he wanted revenge, more than he wanted food or fresh air.

He wanted Sungjae to be ok. There was nothing wrong with that.

Or, at least, that’s what he kept trying to tell himself.

It was a little late when Sungjae arrived home that day, nothing alarming, but later than his usual schedule. Probably got stuck at work again. Whatever the reason, Sungjae was looking much like the way he’d been looking lately - defeated and exhausted.

Ilhoon greeted him with a smile, something he’d been trying to get at least a little better at - being nice. Sungjae gave him a tired smile back and moved to find himself a change of clothes, and then shower, and then go to bed - it was the routine, what Ilhoon had come to learn to expect from him now.

Instead, Sungjae changed his clothes right there (Ilhoon looked away for his own benefit because seeing Sungjae undress was way more than he could deal with at that point) and moved to grab something from his desk. Ilhoon turned to watch him again, seeing him search for something for a few seconds before moving back towards the mirror, his laptop in hand.

Ilhoon arched an eyebrow. “Sungjae, no.”

“Ilhoon, yes,” Sungjae threw back. “I’ve been neglecting you too much, you must be bored out of your mind.”

Ilhoon wanted to respond with something akin to ‘ _ let me out and I’ll keep myself entertained’ _ but he didn’t.

He didn’t.

“I thought we could watch a movie,” Sungjae continued talking as he set up the laptop on the floor. “Something fun.”

“Are we going to watch Shrek again?” Ilhoon asked, going for casual and uninterested even if he really did like Shrek. A lot.

“I thought we could go for something new today,” Sungjae replied. “Maybe a musical?”

“There’s music in Shrek.”

“Well, yes, but— I mean like an actual musical.”

“What’s the difference?”

Sungjae paused and turned to face Ilhoon with a hitch between his brows. “You’ve never seen a musical?” Before Ilhoon could answer Sungjae shook his head and went back to focusing on the laptop. “Nevermind, stupid question. Of course you haven’t.”

“So Shrek is not a musical?” Ilhoon asked, just to clarify.

“No… It has music, but it’s not a musical,” Sungjae said. “I think we should start with Grease, Grease was the gateway drug for me.”

Ilhoon blinked, confused, before asking, “What?”

“It was the first musical I’ve watched,” Sungjae explained, and Ilhoon could see the tail end of a little smile playing on his lips, nostalgic and sweet. “And probably my bisexual awakening, because I had a major crush on Danny Zuko.” He paused again and added. “The character not— Not John Travolta. Anyways, I think you’ll like it.”

Ilhoon simply sighed, knowing it would be useless to try to convince Sungjae to leave the movie for a time when he wasn’t feeling so tired, and simply sat down inside his prison to prepare to watch it. “What is it about? Oil or something?”

Sungjae chuckled, and even if it wasn’t much, hearing him laugh eased something inside Ilhoon. “No, not oil. It’s called Grease because there’s this car, but— It’s a romantic comedy. The message is not very good, but it’s still a really good movie.”

“Alright, play this Grease, then.”

Sungjae did play that Grease. Ilhoon found himself bouncing his head already within the first few seconds of the funky intro song. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad after all.

Ilhoon came to a few realizations while watching it, those of which were one: it was actually a pretty fun movie; two: there truly was a difference between a movie with music in it and a musical, and a very big difference; three: he understood Sungjae’s attraction to that Danny Zuko character; and four: Sungjae’s eyes were sparkling as he watched the movie, completely immersed, sometimes even mouthing along the lines and lyrics with the actors. It made Ilhoon feel— Well. Just feel. He was _ feeling _ . Many things, in fact, all of them quite overwhelming and none of which he would like to think of too hard.

Unlike the first time they watched Shrek, Sungjae didn’t fall asleep. He remained wide-eyed and focused throughout the duration of the picture, and when the ending credits finally started to roll up the screen was that he moved from his position to hit the button to stop it. Sungjae turned around to face him then, expectation obvious in his features, and asked, “Did you like it?”

Even if Ilhoon had absolutely hated it - which he didn’t - he wouldn’t have found it in himself to crush Sungjae’s excitement. “Yeah,” Ilhoon replied with a smile, “I liked it a lot.”

“Really?” Sungjae perked up like a puppy faced with a treat. “Which song did you like best? And isn’t Rizzo a great character? And Danny!”

Ilhoon couldn’t contain a fond little chuckle, something that Sungjae probably interpreted wrong, for he cleared his throat and tried to play down his excitement by turning around to shut off the laptop. He couldn’t let the conversation end like that, so he said, “I really like that one song with the car. And the Sandra Dee one too.”

Sungjae looked back at him, mild surprise in his eyes, and grinned. “They’re great, right? They recently made this special live television performance, there are more songs in it, maybe we can watch it next time?”

Ilhoon couldn’t help but feel like Sungjae had just asked him out on a date, and the thought would have him blushing instantly if he could still blush. Good thing he couldn’t. “I— Yes, I would like that.”

The mood shifted noticeably as Sungjae became bashful with Ilhoon’s reply, and that only served to convince Ilhoon even more that Sungjae had just asked him on a date. Stupid of him to think so, but now the thought had wedged itself inside his mind and it would not budge.

He decided to change the topic instead.

“Sungjae?” he called softly, careful. “Do you want to talk? About— You know. What’s been going on with you.”

“Not really,” Sungjae mumbled in response. Ilhoon thought that would be it, but Sungjae went on. “It’s just so weird. I started dating Sooyoung when we were still in High School, this is the first time in years I’ve been single and it’s— It’s _ so _ weird. Not having her to talk about stuff or not getting her good morning texts every day.” He paused, a little hitch between his brows. “I don’t— I don’t regret it, though. It wasn’t working anymore, and I know that ending things was better, but I feel… Guilty.”

Now that was new information. “Guilty?”

“I might have broken up with her for the wrong reasons,” Sungjae murmured the words, so low Ilhoon had to strain to hear him.

Ilhoon felt like he was missing something that he should be getting, like a brick thrown at high speed at his face that he just couldn’t see coming and would end up breaking his nose before long.

“What do you mean?” he asked, prodding, but Sungjae ducked his face and didn’t answer, clearly thinking better about his own statement. “Because she tried to smash my mirror?”

“No, not— Not that,” Sungjae muttered, tongue peeking out briefly to wet his lips. Ilhoon was maybe a bit too interested in that little action, so he looked away. “It’s just stupid. I feel like I took a chance for nothing, because now I lost someone who is a great person and that matched well with me, and I don’t even know if—” Sungjae stopped himself as if realizing what he was saying, snapping his mouth shut with an audible  _ pop _ . “I, uh— I should go to bed, it’s late.”

“Ok…?” Ilhoon agreed, dumbstruck, watching Sungjae close the laptop and get up from the floor. “Sungjae?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” Sungjae said, throwing Ilhoon a tight-lipped smile. As if that would make Ilhoon feel any better about whatever that entire exchange was. “I’m just talking nonsense.”

“If you say so.”

Sungjae said nothing and Ilhoon could only watch him move around the bedroom, getting ready to sleep. He felt like the brick had hit his face and left a bruise behind, but he hadn’t seen it coming and hadn’t felt it either.

Weird.

 

**☽☿☾**

 

Sungjae unlocked the door to his apartment trying to ignore his friends’ chatter behind him; maybe he regretted agreeing to let them come over after their classes, but now it was a bit too late to go back. He just— He really wanted to be alone. With Ilhoon. Or, well, Ilhoon would be there anyway whether he liked or not, but he just didn’t want to be around other people. Except for Ilhoon.

Not that he wanted to be alone with Ilhoon for the sake of being alone with Ilhoon, he just wanted to be alone and Ilhoon was there and— ah, fuck it, who was he kidding? Certainly not himself.

“You’ve been cooped up in here for weeks!” Minhyuk was saying as they stepped inside. “I get that you’re upset after breaking up with Sooyoungie, but you have to get back out there!”

“Yeah, there’s plenty of fish in the sea,” Eunkwang agreed, “and you’re not that ugly.”

“Wow, thanks, my confidence has been boosted to maximum levels,” Sungjae deadpanned, closing the door behind him and kicking off his shoes by the entrance. “I don’t want fish, though.”

“It’s not  _ literal _ fish,” Minhyuk felt the need to clarify and Sungjae rolled his eyes.

“I  _ know _ .”

He began making his way to the bedroom, Minhyuk on his heels. “We’re all worried about you, you know? You’ve been so down! Changsub’s freaking out.”

“Changsub is always freaking out about something, he just likes making noise,” Sungjae said at the same time he stepped into his bedroom, glancing over at Ilhoon inside his prison and giving him a little smile as a greeting. Ilhoon smiled back before looking curiously towards Minhyuk, who had followed him inside.

“Honey, if you told me we’d have guests I would have prepared tea!” Ilhoon exclaimed in a faux, thick accent and Sungjae had to bite his lips not to laugh.

“Come on, Sungjae,” Minhyuk said, “we really want you to come with us tonight, just have a little fun.”

“I don’t want to go out,” Sungjae argued, dropping his heavy backpack on the floor next to his bed. “I want to nap.”

“Nap now, go out with us later!” Eunkwang shouted from the corridor. Sungjae frowned and walked back over to the bedroom door, finding Eunkwang standing in the middle of the hallway like a weirdo.

“What are you doing?”

“Your creepy haunted mirror is there, I’m not going near it,” Eunkwang stated, firm and at the same time looking like a suspicious cat towards the mirror. He probably couldn’t see it from there, the side of the frame maybe.

“It’s just a mirror,” Minhyuk argued, taking the words out of Sungjae’s mouth. Of course, Sungjae would be lying for the sake of Eunkwang’s sanity. It was definitely not  _ just _ a mirror.

“It’s not! That thing creeps me out,” Eunkwang whined and pouted, staying put where he stood. “I’m good right here.”

“Whatever,” Sungjae said with a roll of his eyes and a dismissive gesture of his hand. 

“Smart man,” Ilhoon said from the mirror, and Sungjae shot him a sideways glare that was received with a cheeky little grin.

Sungjae looked away again.

He’s been trying to ignore that gnawing, growing feeling from the start, ever since he noticed the ill-advised attraction he had towards Ilhoon. It was just for his appearance at first, because, well, he had eyes that could see very well, but it— Changed. The more time he spent around him, getting to know him and all the little things about his personality, Sungjae grew more and more aware that he was… Falling. Face-first. Into a volcano. Or an anthill populated by particularly angry ants.

It made him feel dumb. What did think would happen? That him crushing on the evil wizard trapped in his mirror would end well? That his love would somehow save Ilhoon from himself, that he would turn him around from the wayward path he’d been walking? It was stupid. That wasn’t a romantic comedy and love wasn’t enough. Love was never enough.

It hadn’t been enough for him and Sooyoung.

It all came down to Ilhoon being a wicked warlock who was cursed to spend eternity inside a mirror. What did Ilhoon care about love? What was Sungje to him? Just a Get-Out-Of-Magic-Prison card.

Sure, he didn’t think Ilhoon was evil. Spending time with him was enough to drive that point home several times, but he was put in there for a reason. People don't just trap other people inside magical mirrors for nothing, and while he thought it was possible for Ilhoon to have pissed people off by being a little shit, that would hardly warrant such an extreme solution.

He didn’t think Ilhoon was evil - evil was a concept far too abstract for Sungjae to really grasp, but Ilhoon being in that mirror was proof that he had  _ some _ form of evil in him. What did Ilhoon even do to get himself in a situation like that? Because everything that crossed Sungjae’s mind was horrifying.

And yet— He’d fallen. Toppled over like a tower of cards stacked too high.

He was going to regret it. He just knew it.

But how to turn back from that?

“Sungjae? Hey, are you still with us?” Minhyuk’s voice snapped his thread of thoughts and Sungjae turned to give his friend attention. “You spaced out on us there.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Sungjae mumbled, rubbing one of his eyes with his knuckles. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying you should go out with us tonight,” Minhyuk repeated himself. “We’ll just get together for a few drinks, nothing too fancy. Maybe you’ll get lucky with a girl, even! You in, right?”

Sungjae hesitated for a moment, fighting every fiber of his being that wanted him to look over at Ilhoon - Ilhoon, who was suspiciously quiet. Sungjae wasn’t very interested in ‘getting lucky’. One night stands were never his thing, but—

Maybe that would be the first step for getting over Ilhoon. And if he didn’t ‘get lucky’, at least he could get reasonably drunk. Either way, he would get out of his head for a while.

“Yeah,” he finally said. He continued to avoid looking over at Ilhoon. “I’m in.”

 

**☽☿☾**

 

To say Ilhoon was unhappy was an understatement. Being left behind while Sungjae went out with his friends to potentially meet someone new didn’t sit right with him, and it was especially infuriating because he couldn’t  _ do _ anything about it. All he could do was sit there inside his tiny little prison and stew on his frustration.

The thought of Sungjae meeting someone was already terrible all on its own, but knowing that Ilhoon would have no choice but to watch Sungjae fall in love with that someone— It made him sick to his stomach. Which was odd, because he, technically, couldn’t feel sick. Psychological stomach sickness was a thing, right? If it wasn’t, then it should be, because that’s what he was dealing with and it sucked.

He fidgeted anxiously inside the mirror from the moment Sungjae had left the apartment a few hours ago, and he hadn’t been able to stop since. Even Sami was on edge, although Ilhoon was almost certain she was only reacting to him being weird and twitchy by becoming weird and twitchy herself.

What was going on with him? Now he was feeling bad for making the cat feel bad. He was getting too soft.

It was all Sungjae’s fault.

Ilhoon tapped his fingers on the glass for a while, trying to come up with an interesting rhythm. Then he got tired of doing that and began trying to use his hands and feet on each wall of the mirror to climb higher, see if he could touch the ceiling - he could. That got boring pretty fast, so he sat down on the floor and began trying to come up with ways to tie his hair up without anything to tie it. Maybe he could make a braid? He had no clue how to even begin braiding his hair, but he sure had the time to figure it out. Ten minutes later and all he had to show for his efforts was what looked like a rat’s nest on his head. At least his next several minutes would be busy, because trying to fix the mess he’d made would take some time.

Except he wasn’t counting on Sungjae coming back home that night, and not as early as it was, considering. Ilhoon had made some progress unknotting his hair, but he still looked like he had been hit directly by an electric current, and hearing the front door opening caused him to panic and try to smooth down that hot mess. Sungjae definitely didn’t need to see Ilhoon looking like  _ that _ .

Although— If Sungjae had brought someone home with him, then he probably wouldn’t give Ilhoon a second glance.

The thought caused Ilhoon to drop his attempt at fixing his hair, arms falling limp at his sides.

Hopeless. It was hopeless.

The door slammed shut a while after being opened, and Ilhoon could somewhat hear the commotion. Weird - he expected a hook-up to be less messy, but alas. Maybe Sungjae found himself a really freaky person?

The noise came closer, and Ilhoon started hearing hushed voices, two of which he could vaguely recognize and the third one being Sungjae’s. Didn’t sound like he was about to have a threesome, judging from the tone.

“—that’s the bathroom!” one voice was saying, as Ilhoon caught the tail end of the sentence. “No, don’t go in there, that’s the— No, this way!”

“A-ah! My foot!” another voice said, “Be careful!”

“Sorry!”

He heard Sungjae giggle following that exchange, and figured he was laughing at the other two people. At least he was having fun.

Or so he thought.

Soon enough the bedroom door opened and three men stumbled in, two of them being Sungjae’s friends that had been there before - thought Ilhoon couldn’t remember their names for the life of him - and the third being Sungjae himself, being held up by the other two because he seemed unable to stand up on his own. Ilhoon sighed and rolled his eyes. Of course. Of course he had to deal with a completely intoxicated Sungjae for the rest of the night.

He better not throw up anywhere Ilhoon could see or he would find a way to get out of that mirror just to rub Sungjae’s face in the vomit like a dog to teach him some manners.

Sungjae appeared to have heard him sigh, for his unfocused eyes suddenly shifted towards him, zeroed in on him as if he was the only thing in the room; it sent a shiver down his spine, being stared at with such intent. Then Sungjae grinned, a drunken, lopsided grin that was silly and lovely, and escaped his friends’ grip so he could stumble towards the mirror and— Hug it.

Sungjae was hugging the mirror. That was— That was just hilarious. Ilhoon snorted, unable to look away from the way Sungjae’s cheek was squished against the glass. And was that— Was that drool?

Ew. He stopped laughing right away.

“I missed you!” Sungjae exclaimed in that characteristic drunken slur.

...Oh. Ilhoon was  _ definitely _ not laughing now.

“Sungjae, that’s a mirror,” one of the friends said, sounding tired. There was a stain on his shirt, near his shoulder, and Ilhoon took a wild guess that it was beer. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“No! I’m fine here!” Sungjae argued, turning his face forward to look at Ilhoon. He frowned for a moment and asked, “What happened to your hair?”

Ilhoon made a distressed noise and pulled up the hood of his robes to hide the catastrophe on his head, once again glad that he couldn’t blush. “Shut up!”

“Noooo, I like it!” Sungjae whined, palming the glass a couple of times like he was trying to pet Ilhoon’s head. “It’s pretty! You’re pretty!”

Again, the small mercy of not being able to blush came in handy. “Th-thank you.”

“Sungjae, why are you talking to the mirror?” the second friend asked, looking a mix of amused and concerned. 

“I’m not talking to the mirror!” Sungjae stated as he pushed himself upright and stomped his foot on the ground like a petulant brat. “I’m talking to Ilhoonie!”

Both his friends stared at him as if Sungjae had just turned green and sprouted chicken wings. “Talking to who what now?”, Beer-stain Friend asked.

“Ilhoonie!” Sungjae repeated, turning to Ilhoon again. “He’s so pretty!”

“Ok… he’s in worst shape than I thought,” Second Friend whispered to Beer-stain.

Beer-stained heaved a sigh and approached Sungjae to try and steer him to his bed. “Alright, say goodnight to—  _ Ilhoonie _ and go to sleep, hm? You had a lot to drink tonight.”

“I’m fine!” Sungjae shook off his friend’s hands as he argued, again hugging the mirror. “I want to stay here.”

“I’ll go get him a glass of water, he’s completely out of it,” Second Friend said and left the room.

Ilhoon was shell-shocked, staring at Sungjae with his mouth hanging open like a fish. He had absolutely no idea what was happening or why Sungjae was saying what he was saying, but while he knew drunk people sometimes talked nonsense, usually there was something behind their words that was true - someone told him, once, that drunk people had loose tongues for the truth. So Sungjae— There was a very good chance that Sungjae really did think Ilhoon was attractive.

Score.

“Ilhoonie, Ilhoonie...” Sungjae was repeating under his breath, and Ilhoon was getting tired of getting his heart tugged around so mercilessly by Stupid Drunk Yook Sungjae calling his name like that. “You’re bad, you’re so bad but I  _ like _ you—”

...Oh.

_ Oh. _

Ilhoon pursed his lips, tried not to react to those words. He didn’t know what to make of them. Should he be happy? Sad? He had no fucking clue. It was— he’d wanted to hear them, those words, and now… Now, what did he do with them? The words of a man too drunk to even be able to know what he was saying?

Truth; there was a chance it was the truth.

He should be happy.

He wasn’t happy.

“You’re mean to me and you call me stupid all the time but I like you,” Sungjae continued to whine, tapping on the glass with his fingertips as he let himself slide down until he was a heap on the floor. “You’re so mean to me…”

Ilhoon’s entire being softened at those words. Sungjae sounded so  _ sad _ , so helpless, so vulnerable, and Ilhoon— He felt the exact same way. Still, he stood there, watching Sungjae and wanting to pick him up from the floor and carry him to bed and tuck him in. He would be so hungover come morning. Ilhoon wanted to make it better for him, even if only a little.

Second Friend soon came back with a full glass of water and crouched down next to Sungjae. Beer-stain was standing back, watching with his brows furrowed as if in deep thought, as Second Friend pressed the cup to Sungjae’s lips and coaxed him to drink, which, luckily, he did - he spilled water everywhere, but most of it was properly consumed. Second Friend looked just as pleased with that as Ilhoon felt.

“Good, now get up and go to bed,” Second Friend said, trying to pull Sungjae by the hand to get him up.

Sungjae snatched his hand back immediately, pressing himself against the mirror, knees touching his chest. “No! I want to stay with Ilhoon!”

Both his friends exchanged looks at that, concern heavy in their features. Ilhoon hoped they didn’t think Sungjae was going insane - what if they sent Sungjae away to one of those facilities for people with mental sicknesses? One of the previous owners of the mirror had suffered such a fate, and they never came back. He didn’t want that to happen to Sungjae.

“You really have to stop saying my name and go to bed,” Ilhoon finally said, trying to be both firm and gentle at the same time. He had to work on that, probably.

“But I like your name,” Sungjae replied. He sounded sleepy. “Ilhoonie. Ilhoonie, why are you so mean? Do you hate me?”

“No, I don’t hate you,” Ilhoon felt the need to answer, and Sungjae smiled. It was a sad smile - Ilhoon hated it.

“It’s ok if you do. I hate myself too, it’s ok. It’s ok,” Sungjae mumbled, blinking morosely up at him. Ilhoon wanted to cry. It was very good that he couldn’t.

“Sungjae—” Beer-stained called, but Sungjae made a noise at the back of his throat that sounded like an odd mixture of a hiss and a growl.

“I don’t hate you,” Ilhoon repeated very quietly, lowering himself to a crouch so he was eye-level with Sungjae. “I really don’t.”

Sungjae stared at him for a long moment and smiled, and that smile was a little less sad. “You’re so pretty up close.”

Ilhoon clucked his tongue and looked away, too shy to hold Sungjae’s gaze. “What are you even saying…”

“I kinda—” Sungjae started, his words being interrupted by a long yawn before he resumed, “kinda wanna kiss you.”

Ilhoon stared at Sungjae again, wide-eyed like a deer caught in the headlights. No, that was— Now that was just too much, Ilhoon wasn’t strong enough to handle  _ that _ .

“Sungjae, you’re drunk as a skunk,” Ilhoon said, trying to keep himself from pressing back against the mirror, to bring himself as close to Sungjae as possible. He couldn’t give in to that temptation. “You should go to bed and sleep it off.”

“I wanna stay here,” Sungjae said back, even as his lids began closing on their own. “I wanna stay with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I can’t,” Ilhoon wisely pointed out. “I’ll be right here while you sleep, hm?”

“Too far,” Sungjae refused, trying to blink himself into waking up again. “Want… Close.”

“Close,” Ilhoon echoed, a side-smile making its way to his lips. “Your bed is three steps away.”

“Far.”

“Fine,” Ilhoon finally said with a little chuckle. “Fine, sleep here then.”

“Mm,” Sungjae hummed, sounding satisfied with Ilhoon’s words, and stopped fighting the sleep he’d been trying to push back. In a matter of moments, Sungjae was asleep against the mirror.

Ilhoon smiled fondly at him, placing a hand on the glass where Sungjae’s head was resting. He wanted to touch him. Wanted to run his fingers through his hair and watch over his slumber, make sure he was safe and warm through the night.

He wished he could cry.

He was glad he couldn’t. 

“You really are a dumbass, aren’t you?” Ilhoon asked in a tender whisper, knowing Sungjae wouldn’t hear him or answer. It was alright. The words had been for Ilhoon’s benefit alone anyway.

The next moment, Sungjae’s friends were picking him up and carrying him to the bed, covering him with a blanket carefully, and then leaving the room. Ilhoon heard the front door open and then close.

And then there was nothing but silence to keep his conflicted thoughts company.

 

**☽☿☾**

 

Sungjae woke up feeling like someone had split his skull in half with a hatchet, even the pained groan he let out hurting his ears. Why did he have so much to drink? He hated hangovers, he always did his best to avoid them, and he wasn’t a light-weight either - he could handle his liquor, always had, so this was most definitely a freak occurrence. 

And then he remembered everything, and it all made sense.

Recently lost his high school girlfriend, was falling for sorcerer dude inside his mirror.

Right. That’s why.

Carefully, he pushed himself up, wincing at how he felt a zing of pain in the back of his head. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, his ears were ringing, and he was positive he would throw up in the very near future.

And Ilhoon was probably watching and laughing at his expense and—

“Sungjae?”

Ilhoon’s concerned tone surprised him, and he forgot for a second that he should probably avoid looking at him directly after the fiasco the night before had been and turned around. Ilhoon was staring at him with worry, hands pressed on the glass, fingers twitching with anxiety. He wanted to let him out so bad, needed the comfort so bad, but he could barely even hold his gaze at the moment; he likely would have problems letting Ilhoon come near him in that state.

Not that he was considering letting him out. Of course not.

“Sungjae, are you alright?” Ilhoon asked, still in that attentive, caring tone. Sungjae wasn’t used to it - he could see himself getting there, though. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by an incoming train at full speed,” Sungjae groaned in response, rubbing the heels of his palms over his eyes as if it would help matters.

Ilhoon sighed from his prison. “I figured.”

Sungjae tried to brace himself for what was coming - Ilhoon would likely bring up all the very embarrassing things he’d done and said, then joke about it, rub it in his face—

“You should have something to eat,” Ilhoon said instead of any of the things Sungjae was expecting. “Nothing greasy, maybe some cereal. And you should drink water, lots of it.”

Sungjae lowered his hands and looked towards Ilhoon again, eyes squinted because the goddamn sun was so bright and it hurt. He wanted to snap so Ilhoon would stop being so nice to him, because Ilhoon being nice to him was torture. He wanted to say something akin to ‘ _ I know how to handle a hangover, fuck off _ ’, but instead what came out of his mouth was a croaked, “Ok.”

Ilhoon nodded briefly, seemingly hesitating before talking again. “Ok. Good. There’s this—  _ Concoction _ that used to be very helpful back when I was young. Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

“Concoction?” Sungjae echoed, frowning slightly - he didn’t frown harder just because moving his facial muscles hurt so much. “Like a potion?”

Ilhoon smiled softly, not mocking him to Sungjae’s surprise. “No. Not a potion. I could make you a great hangover-be-gone potion, but that requires magic and I can’t use magic.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a very simple mix,” Ilhoon continued. “Ginger, orange juice, a pinch of salt and a couple spoons of brown sugar.”

Sungjae’s face twisted with revulsion. “That sounds disgusting.”

“But it works.”

“I guess it can’t hurt to try your smoothie from hell,” Sungjae grumbled, very carefully sliding off the bed.

“I have no idea what a smoothie is, but sure,” Ilhoon said with a shrug. “You can add a banana to it too.”

“Ugh, it really  _ is _ a smoothie,” Sungjae whined, shuffling slowly out of his room. He was still wearing the same clothes he wore the night before - a cold shower and clean clothes would certainly help matters.

“I promise it tastes better than it sounds,” Ilhoon lightly said, uncharacteristically gentle.

“I’ll find out soon, I guess,” Sungjae muttered under his breath as he left the room, ready to deal with the hot mess that was his entire being at that moment.

Showering was a quick affair, as he wasn’t really up to taking longer than absolutely necessary in there, and after pulling on an old tee and sweatpants and brushing his teeth, he shuffled to the kitchen to see if he had the ingredients Ilhoon had mentioned. Surprisingly, he did - it all ended up in a blender, and the sound of the blender was almost unbearable. The only reason he gritted his teeth and powered through it was because he trusted Ilhoon (to a degree) and if he said that Hell Smoothie would help, then it would help.

Also true to his word, the smoothie wasn’t all that bad. It tasted very sharp - maybe he put too much ginger? - but it wasn’t terrible. He took his time drinking it, mostly because drinking too fast hurt his head, but also because he was buying himself some time before having to face Ilhoon.

What could he even say? He could claim it was all alcohol-induced nonsense, but who was he kidding? The things he’d said and done— Those were very obviously not lies. And Ilhoon wasn’t stupid, he’d been trapped inside a mirror watching human’s bullshit their way through life for eons, he certainly could tell when Sungjae was lying, and he— He really wasn’t. The night before had been the most honest Sungjae had been in a long time, and while he regretted telling Ilhoon how he felt in such a shameful, pathetic manner, he didn’t want to take it back.

Why would he take the truth back? It was the truth!

Besides, it’s not like Ilhoon knowing would make anything even worse, because how much worse can it get once you hit rock bottom?

Sungjae paused at that thought. Knowing himself, he would find a way to keep digging. He always did, even if unintentionally.

The smoothie drinking only lasted about ten minutes, and Sungjae stretched that time two minutes further by searching the bathroom cabinet for some aspirins. After that, there was not much he could do but to go back to his room and face the music.

Ilhoon didn’t say anything when he entered, and was still quiet all the while Sungjae laid back down on his bed and shifted around to get comfortable. Only when he was properly settled did Ilhoon speak again.

“Feeling any better?”

Sungjae thought for a moment before replying and, yes, now that he paid attention, he did feel a little more—  _ There _ than before. Less nauseous, too.

“Yeah, a little bit,” he said, then added, “Your smoothie kinda helped.”

He didn’t have to look at Ilhoon to know he was smiling. “I know it did, I told you it worked.”

“You were right.”

Silence. It stretched on and it was heavy, like the very air in the room had turned to lead and was pushing down on him, making it hard to breathe. If Ilhoon would not say something, then Sungjae would. Just to get it over with it.

He swallowed his fear and took a deep breath.

Time to dig deeper.

“So…” he started, uncertain but determined, turning his face minutely so he could see Ilhoon. “Aren’t you going to mention everything I said last night?”

Ilhoon was quiet for a moment, gaze fixed somewhere on the floor to avoid looking his way. “I wasn’t going to bring it up if you didn’t.”

“Why? It’s the perfect chance for you to remind me of how dumb and pathetic I am,” Sungjae said, bitter, and turned his eyes to the ceiling once more. Looking up helped with his headache, keeping his eyes idle and turned forward, where they wanted to go.

The silence was longer this time, much longer, painfully longer - Sungjae wasn’t sure if Ilhoon was ignoring him or if he just didn’t know what to say, and the latter would make him feel infinitely worse. What kind of uncanny ungodly power must his drunken confession have had to shut up Ilhoon like that? 

Maybe that was his cue to drop the subject altogether, move past it, pretend it didn’t happen. The blow to his pride for confessing like that was already enough, he didn’t need a rejection to be the cherry on top of that quickly disintegrating shit sundae.

Would Ilhoon believe him if he suddenly yelled out ‘April Fools!’?

“I— Actually,” Ilhoon finally broke the silence, and Sungjae almost wanted to tune it out, didn’t want to listen, didn’t want the confirmation that his feelings were stupid and misplaced and ridiculous— “it would only be dumb and pathetic if your feelings weren’t reciprocated. And… They are.”

Sungjae sat up so fast the room spun and a sharp pain split through his head, a little cry escaping his lips as he placed his hands over his eyes to try to make it a little better. Ilhoon sighed from the mirror.

“Idiot, stay down.”

“How can I stay down when you basically just confessed to me!?” Sungjae argued, paused, and then looked at Ilhoon timidly. “Wait, did you just confess to me?”

Ilhoon huffed and crossed his arms, looking away from Sungjae. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

Sungjae’s jaw dropped, heart beating so fast it was making his ears ring - either that or he was more hungover than he thought. “You— Do you mean that?”

Ilhoon whined and turned his full body away from Sungjae, pressing his face against one of the walls of his prison in a useless attempt at hiding. “Stop making me say it, I’m mortified enough as it is!”

“Oh my god—”

“God most definitely has nothing to do with this, this is the Devil’s work.”

Sungjae laughed, because what else could he do, and all but tumbled out of bed to rush to the mirror - to Ilhoon. Ilhoon turned his head the littlest bit but quickly looked away again, his hands coming up to help conceal his expression. It was so cute. Ilhoon was so cute. Cuter than he ever expected an evil wizard to be, at least.

He stopped short from downright crashing into the mirror, palms pressed against the glass. He wanted— Needed to touch Ilhoon, hold him, feel him as a solid body against him to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, to prove to himself that there really was a man inside his mirror and that said man  _ liked him _ , and he wasn’t truly going mad with stress like his ex-girlfriend thought he was. He looked around the edges of the mirror, looking for something to indicate how he could free Ilhoon, and upon finding nothing he cursed under his breath and asked, annoyed, “How the fuck do I open this thing!?”

“The chain.”

Sungjae didn’t need clarification - he knew Ilhoon meant the chain on the back of the mirror, the thin, frail-looking thing that was currently keeping the mirror up on the wall. So easy, he thought - he could have freed Ilhoon so long ago, just snapping that rusty little chain that looked like it would come apart at the slightest pressure. One tug would be all that took.

He had already begun pulling the mirror forward so he could wedge his hand behind it and break the chain, but a sudden thought hit him like a freight train and left him cold - Ilhoon could be lying. It could all be a ploy to set him free, and if it was truly a lie then Ilhoon would come out of there with the sole purpose of burning everything, every _ one _ to the ground. Ilhoon was cunning and he was likely desperate after so long trapped in there; lying about something so personal, being so cruel, only to manipulate Sungjae into doing what he wanted was not something he could put past Ilhoon’s wily ways. Sungjae was his escape ticket, and that he had feelings for him certainly played right into something Ilhoon could use to his advantage.

Desperation made monsters out of people, and Ilhoon’s options were never that many to begin with.

So instead, Sungjae breathed out a shaky puff of air and recoiled, stepped away from the mirror. Ilhoon was watching him, no longer shy like he’d been not ten seconds before, but with a sad smile on his lips, a melancholic air about him.

“You’re not so dumb after all. Good,” Ilhoon said, gaze fixed on the floor as he nodded to himself. “Good.”

“How can I know you’re not lying?” Sungjae asked, bordering on begging as he stared at Ilhoon.

Ilhoon looked up at him, sadness and resignation in his eyes.

“You can’t.”

That was definitely not what he wanted to hear.

“Then what do we do?” Sungjae asked, hands pressed again the cool glass again, wishing that he could somehow walk through that barrier and be with Ilhoon. Just for a second. Half a second. Anything would be enough. 

Ilhoon was silent for a long time, silent and still, until he raised a hand to touch the glass where Sungjae’s own palm was pressed. If he tried hard enough, Sungjae could almost feel the warmth of Ilhoon skin against his own. All Ilhoon did was whisper in response, a response that did nothing for either of them besides make their entire situation feel even more hopeless than before.

“I don’t know.”


	6. All paradoxes may be reconciled;

The first few days after they confessed to each other were— Awkward. All their conversations felt incomplete, like their feelings were a big stinky elephant in the room that neither of them wanted to acknowledge. It bothered Sungjae to no end because he just wanted to move past that, since there was no way he could turn back time to change the situation.

Ilhoon was quiet, spending his times staring at a random point in the room or his prison, mind miles away. He missed Ilhoon’s voice, missed even his constant teasing, but it’s not like he could force Ilhoon to get out of his head and interact with him if he didn’t want to.

Still. He missed him.

And they liked each other, so— He should try, right?

It was both for the sake of their feelings, and also a way to try to figure out if Ilhoon was being honest or if he was just manipulating Sungjae in order to be let out of his prison.

That was the line of thinking that Sungjae was tiptoeing around that afternoon; he had no classes and his shift at work had been during the morning. He would have just spent his free time sleeping away, but he was set on trying to make a change. The first step was cleaning his apartment - both because it had been a while and because he had to start gathering all of Sooyoung’s belongings so he could return them to her.

Ilhoon only watched him go back and forth around the apartment, music blasting from his laptop as he cleaned, without making any comments. Sungjae didn’t get why he was so quiet - was he lying about having feelings for him after all? Or was he quiet exactly  _ because _ he had feelings for him? Or did Sungjae make him uncomfortable by confessing?

By the time he finished cleaning the rest of the apartment, the sun was already lowering in the sky, and Sungjae moved to his bedroom - he’d left the bedroom for last on purpose. It gave him time to figure out what to say and to gather his nerve, or at least  _ some _ of his nerve.

Ilhoon was bouncing his head along with the song that was playing when he entered the bedroom, cleaning supplies in hand and a knot of nervous energy in his chest. The worst that could happen would be Ilhoon telling him to fuck off, which had happened before, but Sungjae still felt like he was about to face an angry dragon.

So he lowered the music a little bit, just so he didn’t have to shout, before he walked right up to the mirror, startling Ilhoon that jolted where he stood and stared at him wide-eyed. “Wh-what?”

Sungjae, for all that he was nervous, managed to maintain a calm expression and shrug as if there was nothing wrong in the world. As  _ if _ . “Just cleaning the mirror, I left palm prints everywhere.”

“Oh,” Ilhoon said, visibly more relaxed. “You left a face print too.” He pointed at the smudge in question.

“See? I have to clean it, or soon enough you won’t even be able to see through the glass,” Sungjae joked, and Ilhoon hummed, agreeing. 

They got quiet again as Sungjae began cleaning the mirror, first dusting the frame to then focus on the glass. Ilhoon only watched him, and Sungjae could feel his eyes on him, two lasers burning holes through several layers of skin and muscle, but he still managed to keep his cool. Or, in fact, managed to pretend he hadn’t noticed because otherwise, he would be too self-conscious to function. Ilhoon always seemed to have that effect on him.

The atmosphere was still tense, though. Not the best start for a conversation about their “problem”, so Sungjae decided to do what he did best: break the ice.

After he finished cleaning the mirror, he came close to the glass, making Ilhoon startle again at the proximity, and once he was close enough he blew hot air out of his mouth to fog the mirror. Then he drew a heart on it with his index finger and grinned at Ilhoon.

Ilhoon blinked, staring at the heart drawn on the mirror for a moment, before a sheepish grin materialized on his lips. “You’re an idiot.”

“Sometimes.”

Ilhoon chuckled, and the sound of his laughter was a balm to Sungjae’s worries. It would be fine. They liked each other, so it would be fine.

“So…” Sungjae started, the picture of eloquence. “I like you.”

Ilhoon arched an eyebrow at him, confused. “So I’ve heard.”

“And you like me,” he pressed on.

Ilhoon made a little annoyed noise and looked away, and Sungjae had learned to interpret that lack of eye contact as Ilhoon being shy. So cute. “Yes, as was already established, you don’t have to keep bringing it up.”

“It’s just— I—” Sungjae stammered and cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. “I was hoping that we could— You know. Try.”

Ilhoon turned his eyes to him again, and his expression was hard to decipher. “Try?”

“Yes.”

“Try what?”

“Being together.”

Ilhoon arched both eyebrows at him before wordlessly motioning around him, to his prison. Sungjae didn’t miss a beat.

“It  _ could _ work,” he said. “It would be like a long-distance relationship, except the only real distance is this glass.” He gave the mirror a light tap with his knuckle for emphasis.

Ilhoon huffed through his nose and shook his head, staring at the ground. “We’re about to become the most depressing couple in history.”

Sungjae perked up at that. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s an observation,” Ilhoon corrected him. “It’s been fine so far because we were both going with the assumption that our feelings were not reciprocated, do you really think we can deal with  _ knowing _ we like each other?”

“Yes,” Sungjae replied promptly, no hesitation. “We have dealt with it fine these last couple of days.”

Ilhoon stared at him for a long moment before raising his hands up to his head just so he could massage his temples as if he had a headache. He didn’t, and Sungjae only knew that because Ilhoon couldn’t  _ get _ headaches. What a drama queen.

“Sungjae—” Ilhoon started and paused, rethinking his words, before trying again. “This is going to be very frustrating and painful for you.”

“And it won’t be for you?” Sungjae asked, starting to get a little disheartened. “You’re the one stuck in there.”

“And you’re the one free to find someone better,” Ilhoon responded, not making eye contact as he spoke. “You can’t just— Waste your time on me when you could be with someone who you can actually  _ be _ with.”

“I know my options, or do you think I haven’t spent the past few days obsessing about this?” Sungjae argued, stepping even closer to the mirror, his toes touching the wall. “And what’s up with you being all altruistic, you’re supposed to be an evil sorcerer! Evil sorcerers are meant to be selfish!”

“Because this is not about only me, you dumbass!” Ilhoon raised his voice a little, obviously reaching his boiling point. “I’m trying to be practical about this. The best option for both of us is if you give up on me.”

“Good thing I can make my own decisions, because that option fucking sucks.”

“Sungjae—”

“If you don’t want to be with me then just say so!” Sungjae exploded, the way Ilhoon kept going around in circles around the subject tripping him over the edge. Being rejected hurt enough already, he didn’t need Ilhoon to claim to have his best interests at heart to soften the blow.

“I do!” Ilhoon shouted back, and that thoroughly shut Sungjae up. “That’s the problem!”

Sungjae spluttered, opening and closing his mouth several times before he could put words together in a sentence that made sense, “How is that a problem!?”

“Haven’t you been paying any attention to what I’m saying!?” Ilhoon sounded like he was a moment away from smashing through the glass just to grab Sungjae by the neck. “You want a commitment with someone who’s trapped inside a mirror!”

“And you keep saying no!”

“Because if I say yes then you’re stuck with me!”

“Which is exactly what I want!”

“Ugh, you’re infuriating!” Ilhoon exclaimed, hands balled into fists. “Why the fuck do I like you so much!?”

“I could ask you the same question!” Sungjae replied, taking deep breaths to calm down. “Alright, look,” with his voice more level, he tried again, “I understand the situation, I’m not dumb.” Ilhoon opened his mouth to argue and Sungjae quickly said, “Not  _ that _ dumb.” That seemed to be enough for Ilhoon to keep quiet and let him finish. “I know you’re trapped in there and I know it will be hard, but— I want to give this a chance. If it’s really hopeless then— Then we can at least end it knowing we tried, you know?”

Ilhoon rolled his eyes and nodded slowly in response. “Yeah, I can see the logic in that.” He thought for a moment longer, staring at the ground with a hitch between his brows. Sungjae only waited in silence until Ilhoon decided to speak again. “You understand the consequences, then? For better or worse?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And you still want this?”

“Yes.”

“Well then,” Ilhoon looked up at him again after speaking, pausing for only a moment before concluding, “if you really think you can deal with our situation—”

“I  _ can— _ ”

“But,” Ilhoon interjected, and Sungjae snapped his mouth shut so he could speak, “you need to promise me that if it gets too much, you’ll tell me and we’ll call this off.”

“So that’s a yes?” Sungjae asked, beaming at Ilhoon, who just scoffed and shook his head.

“You’re impossible, I’m trying to look out for you and you’re not even listening to me.”

“You’re my boyfriend?”

“You’re just proving my point—”

“I’m going to be the best boyfriend you ever had, just you wait.”

Ilhoon rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the smile that bloomed on his face. “I don’t think I can promise the same, but I’ll try not to be  _ too _ terrible.”

“It’s going to work, Ilhoonie,” Sungjae said, pressing his palm to the mirror, just wanting to hold Ilhoon’s hand. If only for a second, just for a little bit— “We’re going to make it work.”

Ilhoon bit his lips - an action that should probably not be as endearing as it was - and pressed his fingertips to the spot on the glass where Sungjae’s palm was.

“I hope you’re right.”

 

**☽☿☾**

 

For all that Sungjae was still having trouble sleeping, his mood had certainly improved after Ilhoon accepted being his boyfriend. It was strange and they were still trying to figure out how to be a couple in their very odd circumstances, but it was working. For the most part.

Ilhoon was right about how hard it would be, to be together and not actually be able to  _ be _ together. He saw Ilhoon every day, every time he entered his bedroom, and there was not a single moment he didn’t want to touch him. Sungjae had been called ‘clingy’ before, both by Sooyoung and by his friends, and he agreed - he was clingy. Very clingy. He liked physical proximity, found comforting to be touched and enjoyed giving others comfort by touching them, be it by just placing a hand on their shoulder. It was grounding and soothing and he wanted to be able to run his fingers through Ilhoon’s hair when he was upset, wanted to kiss him all over, hold him to sleep at night.

It was painful. Very painful, and on that note, Ilhoon had been right - but it was also good.  So,  _ so _ good. Coming home knowing Ilhoon would be there, having someone to talk to and have fun with, listening to Ilhoon talking about the many things he knew from the years he’d been in the mirror, even just sitting in silence next to him was nice. Ilhoon— Trapped in the mirror or not, Ilhoon made him very happy.

He liked to think he made Ilhoon happy too.

Sungjae entered the burger joint his friends had agreed to meet at for lunch in high spirits, taking less than a second to spot them sitting at a table and make his way there. The moment he reached them, his eyes fell on Eunkwang and he blurted out, “Oh wow, you look like crap.”

Eunkwang, who had been leaning over the table with his arms crossed and head resting on top of them, only groaned in response, not even bothering looking up. His hair was a mess, which was very strange from Eunkwang who liked to look neat, and Sungjae could see the signs of fatigue in the dark circles under his eyes. Minhyuk, sitting next to Eunkwang, sighed and gave him a gentle pat on the back.

“He’s been having trouble sleeping these past few months,” Minhyuk explained. “It’s been getting worse lately.”

Sungjae frowned as he sat down next to Changsub, leaving his heavy backpack on the ground next to him. “Weird, me too.”

“But you don’t look like crap today, so what gives?” Changsub asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

All Sungjae did was smile and shrug, and Donggeun gasped on the other side of the table. “You got some!”

Sungjae snorted, face scrunching up in confusion. “What? No, I didn’t.”

“You got back with Sooyoungie, then?” Changsub tried to guess, and Sungjae promptly shook his head.

“I didn’t. And I won’t, we’re over for good.”

“Then how come you look so—  _ Jolly _ ?” 

“When you use the word ‘jolly’ I always think of Santa Claus,” Donggeun mused, mostly to himself.

“Maybe I’m just having a good day,” Sungjae replied as if Donggeun hadn’t spoken at all.

“It can’t be  _ just _ that,” Changsub insisted. “You have this…  _ Vibe _ about you. Met someone? Did you take my advice and joined Grindr?”

“I did not,” Sungjae immediately responded, but decided that he could give  _ something _ for Changsub to work with. “But let’s just say that I’m not on the market.”

“Oh shit, you’re seeing someone!” Minhyuk exclaimed, for the first time shifting his attention from Eunkwang since he’d arrived. “Who is it, do we know them!?”

“No, you don’t know him,” Sungjae said, not thinking too much about it, and there was a collective gasp from his friends.

“ _ Him _ ?” Donggeun echoed.

“Oh shit, finally!” Changsub exclaimed. “I can  _ finally _ teach you all the butt stuff!”

“I  _ know _ all the butt stuff already,” Sungjae rolled his eyes. “And it’s not like that, we’re… Taking it slow, I suppose? It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Minhyuk asked, an eyebrow arched. “Complicated how? Is he married?”

“No, he’s not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Sungjae rolled his eyes as he replied, already regretting telling them. “We just started dating this week, there’s not much to tell you.”

“What’s his name?” Donggeun asked.

“Ilhoon.”

Changsub and Donggeun exchanged a look that didn’t go by unnoticed by Sungjae - because of course they would recognize the name from the night they went out and Sungjae got drunk. They witnessed Sungjae having a one-sided conversation with his mirror and referring to it as Ilhoon, from their perspective. Certainly they thought Sungjae was going insane.

“Sungjae…” Changsub started, careful, as he turned around on his seat to face him. “I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to be honest with me. Are you or are you not dating a ghost?”

“A ghost,” Sungjae repeated, looking at Changsub as if he’d just said two plus two is five. “He’s definitely not a ghost.”

“Imaginary friend?”

“He’s not imaginary,” Sungjae almost groaned the answer. “He’s real.”

“Do you have a picture with him?” Donggeun asked, almost a challenge, and Sungjae shrugged in response.

“Non’ya.”

“You’re not convincing us, you know,” Minhyuk pointed out. Eunkwang seemed to have fallen asleep on the table.

“Maybe I’ll introduce you someday, when you stop thinking he’s a ghost,” Sungjae said, getting defensive about it at last. “I don’t want this negativity around my boyfriend.”

“You have to admit it’s suspicious from our point of view,” Minhyuk said, trying to mitigate the situation. “You’ve been acting weird for a while, then you break up with your girlfriend of five years to suddenly start dating this mysterious guy only a couple weeks later—”

“Yeah, yeah, anyways, where’s Hyunsik?” Sungjae asked, forcefully ending the conversation, and Minhyuk, looking resigned, sighed before replying.

“He’s running a little late, but he’ll be here soon.”

“Great, should we order for him?” Sungjae continued on as if nothing had happened, knowing very well that his friends wouldn’t drop the subject so easy. Oh no. It would spring back into topic when he least expected it.

Maybe he should have kept his big mouth shut.

 

**☽☿☾**

 

Ilhoon sighed as he watched a movie Sungjae had set up for him, wishing Sungjae was watching it with him instead of working on his university assignments or whatever he was doing at his desk nearby. He would hate to admit it because he was still of a mind that Sungjae forgetting about him was the best choice, but he was— Happy. He hadn’t been happy in forever and he had no idea what to do with that fuzzy feeling in his chest, but he was happy.

Sungjae was very sweet to him, very thoughtful and attentive, and Ilhoon wasn’t used to being so cared for. Most owners of the mirror never even got to meet him, and those that somehow managed to do so got rid of the mirror at the first chance they got. Nobody ever gave Ilhoon the time of day, and now Sungjae came along and Ilhoon couldn’t imagine how it would be once Sungjae finally woke up and realized Ilhoon was more trouble than he bargained for. Because it would happen - Ilhoon had learned to expect the worse, and he just knew Sungjae would get rid of him eventually. Oh, and how he knew.

So with that in mind, he wanted to enjoy this ‘relationship’ with Sungjae while it lasted. Wanted to bask in the attention and the affection Sungjae was freely offering him, and he wanted to be around Sungjae for as long as he possibly could. He would do anything for that. To be with Sungjae, even if he would never be able to  _ be _ with him.

The movie he was watching was pretty grim - Sungjae said it was a classic and Ilhoon didn’t really get the meaning of that, but he had to trust Sungjae’s judgment on that. There was certainly a lot of blood and punches being thrown around for a classic, though the fight scene in the corridor was pretty cool.

Suddenly he heard Sungjae groan and shifted his attention from the laptop to his—  _ Boyfriend _ . Just thinking the word made Ilhoon’s insides go all gooey.

“What’s wrong, love?” Ilhoon asked, watching as Sungjae slumped back on his rolling chair.

“Some of my bills turned out higher this month,” SUngjae replied, a little pout on his lips. “The electricity bill is almost double of what I usually have to pay, so that means no more take out for a while.”

“As long as you don’t burn down the apartment,” Ilhoon quipped and Sungjae shot him an unimpressed look.

“Ha ha ha, Sungjae can’t cook, very funny,” he deadpanned. “I guess it’s still better than ask my parents for help, I would rather get food poisoning.”

“Oh, you prideful creature.”

“Shush, you.”

“I wish I could do something to help,” Ilhoon said, voice lower, almost a whisper, as he turned back to face the laptop. “If I could use magic I’d make sure you’d never want for anything again. I can turn any metal to gold, did you know that?”

“What? No way,” Sungjae’s eyes were wide as saucers as he spoke. “Really?”

“Mhm, really. It’s more alchemy than magic, though magic still plays a part,” Ilhoon explained, voice back to its normal volume. “It was something Paracelsus came up with a long time ago, the Law of the Triangle. It basically means that you can create something new by combining two different components. The Three Alchemy Primes - Tria Prima, as he called it, are Sulfur, Mercury and Salt. He says everything that exists has those three components in its base essence.”

“That’s… Really fucking cool,” Sungjae said and got up from his chair to come closer to Ilhoon. “How do you know that?”

“I’m an evil sorcerer, remember?” Ilhoon’s rhetorical question was made with a smug side grin. “The three primes are actually used as a metaphor for many things, such as nature’s elements - fire, air, water and earth - or the human nature divided between spirit, mind and body. It represents the different realms of existence too: the spiritual realm, the mental realm and the physical realm. Basically, it really encompasses everything according to Paracelsus; he believed that all forms of life consist of three parts. Remember how I told you about how triangles were powerful? There you go.”

“You’re so smart, Ilhoonie.”

Ilhoon chuckled and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Only smart enough. But as I was saying, Paracelsus’s theory was that every metal was formed by a different Sulfur-Mercury ratio, which means that changing the composition of a particular metal was only a matter of tipping the balance of that ratio.”

“Which is how you make gold.”

“Exactly!” Ilhoon confirmed with a nod and a bright smile. “Bring me a pouch of cheap copper coins and you leave with a small fortune in gold.”

“Incredible,” Sungjae said, staring at Ilhoon as if he’d hung the moon in the sky or something. That big sap.

Ilhoon shrug, his smile turning a little sad. “Yeah, well. Maybe someday.”

Sungjae pursed his lips, the matter of Ilhoon being trapped in the mirror heavy over their heads. Ilhoon hadn’t asked to be let out in a long time, and they avoided the subject as much as possible, but it was a constant in both their minds.

Ilhoon in the mirror, Sungjae the one with the power to free him. The only one who could do so, and the one who was too good of a person to risk it.

He both loved and hated Sungjae for that, for being so good. He envied him a little bit, too.

Love was still the most prominent emotion, though.

“Ilhoon—” Sungjae started but stopped himself, a pensive frown on his face, and Ilhoon simply waited for him to decide to speak his mind or not. “I— Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, love, anything.”

Sungjae made a noise that sounded like a squeak and broke into a bashful grin. “I can’t handle it when you call me ‘love’,” he said, before taking a deep breath to compose himself. “What I wanted to ask is— How many times have you come close to getting out of there?”

Ilhoon averted his gaze, the question taking him by surprise in the worst possible way. He didn’t want Sungjae to think he was trying to manipulate him, make him feel sorry or guilty, but he didn’t want to lie to him either.

So, taking a second to steel himself, he answered, “You’re the first one who ever came close to letting me out.”

Sungjae’s jaw dropped. That it didn’t fall right from his skull and smashed on the floor was a true wonder. Ilhoon tried to keep himself still, not to react in any way, until Sungjae finished processing the information.

“Ilhoonie, I— I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I  _ am _ , I—”

“Sungjae,” Ilhoon interrupted, firm but gentle enough for Sungjae to know it was alright. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not holding this against you, and I don’t resent you for not freeing me. I know your reasons, and they’re valid ones. Let’s leave it at that.”

Sungjae huffed and pouted, obviously not ready to let the conversation go but wanting to accept Ilhoon’s words. He then stopped and looked around, and Ilhoon was the one who frowned, confused, as he watched Sungjae start moving around the room. He became even more confused when Sungjae pushed his bed so the side was fully touching the far wall, the sound of it dragging across the floor making Ilhoon cringe.

“What are you doing?”

“I had a thought and I liked it,” Sungjae replied in the way of an explanation, but that only made Ilhoon that much more confused.

“Uh… what thought?”

“You’ll see,” Sungjae said, giving the bed one last push to make sure there was no space between it and the wall before he approached the mirror, closing his laptop on the way. “You should probably sit down in there, things will get bumpy.”

Ilhoon gave Sungjae a suspicious look, but did as suggested and sat down on the floor, each hand on one wall for balance. Sungjae made no comments about it, simply humming to himself as he carefully took the mirror from the wall. Ilhoon tried to keep his balance as best he could as Sungjae took the mirror over to where his bed was, and then the world tipped over and there was no way Ilhoon could keep himself upright anymore.

It lasted only a moment, and next thing he knew, the mirror was propped up sideways on Sungjae’s bed, leaning against the wall, and Sungjae was lying down next to it on the space in front of his prison. Ilhoon, who had toppled over, took a second to get his bearings. He couldn’t stand up anymore, the space only tall enough for him to sit, but he realized where Sungjae was going with that and laid down instead, a pleased groan escaping his mouth once he was flat on his stomach.

“Oh, fuck, I forgot how good it feels to lie down,” Ilhoon said, eyes closed to enjoy the bliss of being off his feet. He stretched his legs and arms as far they could go for good measure - he was pretty sure all his bones cracked with the strain.

Sungjae chortled at that, kid-like and lovely. “If I knew you wanted to lie down I’d have done this a long time ago.”

“I didn’t even know I needed this until now,” Ilhoon admitted, turning sideways to face Sungjae and propping his head up with one hand. “This feels nice.”

“Yeah, it does,” Sungjae agreed, scooting closer to the mirror. Ilhoon licked his lips nervously, unsure how to proceed, what Sungjae was expecting. He didn’t have to wait long to find out. “I— I wanted to be next to you, for a little bit. Is that weird?”

Ilhoon smiled fondly at Sungjae, smitten like the lovesick fool he was, and shook his head. “No. It’s not weird at all.”

“Ok. Good,” Sungjae said, cheeks dusted pink. “You don’t want me to put you back on the wall then?”

“Not in the slightest,” he replied. “I like this.”

“Can I sleep next to you tonight, then?”

“Of course you can, love.”

Sungjae smiled softly at him, shifting on the bed in search of a comfortable position, his cheek squished against his pillow. He was so cute,  _ so  _ cute - maybe it was a good thing Ilhoon couldn’t get to him, because he had the most wicked urge to bite him all over.

They were quiet for a while, just enjoying the silence, the proximity, even if there was still that pesky glass between them. Ilhoon chewed on his lips, tapping the glass absently with his fingertips, trying to imagine how it would feel like to actually lie down next to Sungjae, skin to skin. He didn’t even remember what physical proximity felt like anymore, but he could recall enjoying it.

“How did you become an evil sorcerer anyway?” Sungjae asked in a small voice, as if afraid to break the moment if he spoke any louder than that.

Ilhoon blinked, watching Sungjae for a moment as he weighed the question. It took him a moment to decide on whether or not he wanted to talk about it, but— He trusted Sungjae. He wanted him to know.

“It’s a long story,” Ilhoon answered in the same careful tone, eyes roaming every detail of Sungjae’s face. They had been close like that before, perhaps even closer, but there was something so intimate, so fragile in that moment, that Ilhoon could almost feel his heart beating beyond the stasis. “And it’s not a happy one. Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes,” Sungjae insisted, blinking lazily as he continued to watch Ilhoon’s expression. “I want to know, if you feel up to telling me.”

Ilhoon pursed his lips and thought for a moment longer before nodding to comply. He took a couple of seconds to gather his thoughts on the subject, to choose his words, and began, “Back when I was young, things were different. Mentalities were different, beliefs were different. Prejudice back then wasn’t the same as it is now. Anything out of the norm, anything people didn’t understand, they blamed it on the supernatural.” Ilhoon explained as an opening to his story, and Sungjae’s eyes were near sparkling with childlike curiosity. “If you had a deformity, then you were paying for a sin committed by your parents. If you had a mental illness, you were possessed by the devil.”

“Must have been tiring to live like that,” Sungjae commented, the tip of his index fingers following the pattern of the carvings on the mirror’s frame.

“It was… Simpler, actually. The rules were clearer, for all that they were ridiculous,” Ilhoon’s mouth quirked up in a mirthless grin as he spoke. “Of course, simpler if you’re not one of those people who are different.”

“I’m assuming that’s you,” Sungjae said and shot him a lopsided smile; Ilhoon’s eyes lingered on his lips for one heartbeat too long.

“Yeah. I— There was a boy. A couple years older me, he was the son of the baker.”

“Ah, did you knead his dough?” Sungjae asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows, causing Ilhoon to laugh despite himself.

“ _ Stop _ , the story is not supposed to be funny.”

“Sorry, you were saying?”

“I was on my way home, and the baker’s son asked for my help when I walked by the bakery to move some crates,” Ilhoon continued, the smile dropping from his face slowly and being replaced by a thoughtful scowl. “I had feelings for him, had them for a long time, in fact, I will admit to that, but— He was the one who kissed me. I knew better than to be the one to make the first move.”

Sungjae’s playful demeanor was completely gone, and he was again enraptured by Ilhoon’s tale.

“I tried telling him we shouldn’t do that, that someone would see us, but he insisted. And I liked him, so… You can guess what happened.”

Sungjae let out a long breath. “You kissed him back.”

“I did. And like I feared, someone saw us,” Ilhoon shifted uncomfortably, moving to lie completely on his stomach, head pillowed on his crossed arms. “He accused me of being the thrall of a demon and an evil witch, said that I cast a spell on him and forced him into the situation, and they believed him.”

“But you weren’t a sorcerer?” Sungjae seemed confused and Ilhoon chuckled at his naivete.

“No, not yet,” Ilhoon said and paused, distracted by the gleam of Sungjae’s big eyes. “It was a small village, so word traveled fast and my family began to be ostracized and mistreated, and they accused them of protecting me, the demon child.” He rolled back to his side, so he could trace invisible lines on the glass. “The threats began escalating, and my sister was being harassed constantly. I didn’t care what they did to me, but— I couldn’t just sit by and let them hurt my family.”

“So you became a sorcerer,” Sungjae supplied, and Ilhoon smiled at him, a sweet little thing, barely there, and nodded. “How?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” Ilhoon cocked his head to the side along with the question, eyes catching the dim light like a cat’s. “It will change your opinion of me drastically.”

Sungjae bit his lips, hesitating for a split second, before whispering. “Tell me.”

Ilhoon closed his eyes for a moment to summon his courage. “To become a magic wielder, you need to make a deal with a demon. I made a deal with an Incubus.”

“An Incubus?” Sungjae’s eyebrows shot up after he asked his question. “Isn’t that like a sex demon?”

Ilhoon simply stared at Sungjae, expression neutral, and Sungjae’s cheeks became pink as he looked away.

“What— What was the deal?”

“I gave it my virginity,” Ilhoon scoffed at the words. “Virginity is but a societal concept, sure, but there is power in belief, and back then it was believed that there was much to be gained from this idea of purity. Not only that, but the demon took the form of a male. Intercourse between two people of the same gender was one of the greatest taboos, which made this deal all the more powerful. I gave it my purity in a union considered ‘unholy’.”

Sungjae’s entire face was red as a cherry, but he still managed to look dumbstruck. “You… Had sex with a demon.”

Ilhoon snorted. “Yep. It was really good, by the way.”

Sungjae rolled his eyes, and Ilhoon couldn’t help a smug smile at his expression. “Ah.”

“Jealous?”

Sungjae glared at him from the corners of his eyes and Ilhoon snickered. “So you had sex with a demon and got your powers, is that it?”

“Yes, basically. I only used my magic to keep my family safe at first, but having power is— It’s a high,” Ilhoon continued, sobering up after teasing Sungjae in order not to make him too angry. “The more magic I used, the more I wanted my spells to be stronger. It became less about protecting my family and more about being feared.”

“Is that how you turned to dark magic?”

Ilhoon hummed, thoughtful, and shook his head. “Not quite. As I said, belief is important, and so is intent. My intent then was still neutral enough that I was neither good or evil, because I just wanted to be stronger.”

Ilhoon hesitated, and Sungjae, seemingly noticing, rested his hand on the mirror. Ilhoon sheepishly placed his own hand on the glass over Sungjae’s, and he could almost pretend he could feel his temperature against his palm. “Tell me.”

“As the years passed and I became stronger, the people of the village became more and more scared,” Ilhoon continued his tale, voice a little lower than before. “In retrospect, I should have seen it coming, but— I was so focused on my own needs and wants I lost sight of what mattered, and I’m the only one to blame for that.”

“What happened?” Sungjae asked, meek, fearful, his fingertips twitching over the mirror as if he wanted nothing but to lace his fingers with Ilhoon’s. Ilhoon choked and looked away, the ache in his chest distracting him for a second.

“They— Since they couldn’t get to me directly, they—” Ilhoon tailed off, let out a shaky breath; if he could cry, he would be crying. “They took my sister. For a blood sacrifice.”

“What!?”

Ilhoon’s hand closed into a fist just as Sungjae’s pressed tighter against the glass. “They thought that because we were related by blood, that by killing her and using her blood in a ritual they made up, I would be weakened. That’s when I— When I finally decided to give their fears a reason and become what they had always accused me of being.”

“Ilhoon…” Sungjae whispered his name, not in a way to stop him, but in a gasp of sadness.

“I was ruthless. I did unspeakable things to them, torn families apart, turned them against each other,” Ilhoon chuckled to himself, joyless. “But it wasn’t enough. I was so filled with anger and hurt that I felt like the only way to make things better was to clear the slate. Start fresh.”

“So you decided to bring forth the apocalypse?” 

Ilhoon chortled, a bit more genuine. “Sort of. But the demon I made the deal with caught wind of it, and it didn’t like the idea. It came to the villagers and taught them a way to stop me.”

“The mirror.”

“The mirror,” Ilhoon agreed, nodding briefly. “They tricked me into believing they would return my sister’s body so I could give her a proper burial, and I, stupid as I was, believed them. And that’s how I ended up here.”

“Ilhoonie—”

“Have you ever heard the tale of Half-hanged Mary?” Ilhoon asked, diverting the subject. Sungjae shook his head. “She was a woman who lived many years ago, and she was constantly accused of being a witch. She was just a bitter old lady, not a witch, but people still branded her as such.

“One day, for one reason or another, a couple of men from the village came to her home, dragged outside into the snow-covered ground, beat her, and strung her up by her neck on a nearby tree. They thought she was dead, and left.

“She wasn’t dead, though. She survived. The people were obviously scared, thinking she came back from the dead through black magic, and not that the men did a piss-poor job of killing her. Years later, one of her great-great-children or someone related to her, wrote a poem titled ‘Half-hanged Mary’,” Ilhoon narrated the story without hurry, both an allegory to his own story and a way to give himself time to pick himself up. “In this poem, she wrote these verses: ‘ _ Before, I was not a witch; but now I am one _ ’.”

“I— I think I get it,”  Sungjae sighed the words, the sadness in his eyes speaking worlds to Ilhoon. After a pause, he added, “You know I can’t let you out, right?”

“I know.” Ilhoon easily agreed.

“I can’t know for certain you won’t just… Just go all Lord Voldemort on me, you know?” Sungjae said with a little smile, but it was brittle and it didn’t reach his eyes.

Ilhoon chuckled. “I know. I wasn’t going to ask.”

“Do you still want to purge the world and start again?” Sungjae asked, point blank, but Ilhoon didn’t flinch at the question like he would have not long ago. He just sighed, silent for a moment as he considered.

“A part of me does,” he finally admitted, and Sungjae grimaced, lowering his gaze to his pillow. “But it’s a small part. You— If there are more people like you in the world, maybe it’s not all lost.”

Sungjae’s face became crimson, down his neck and to the tips of his ears. Ilhoon chuckled, shifting closer to the glass and wishing he could reach out and touch, run his fingers through his hair, his skin.

“And even if you’re the only one like you, which I’m entirely inclined to believe you are,” Ilhoon continued, watching Sungjae’s expression carefully, “for you, I’d be willing to give this world a second chance.”

Sungjae’s eyes lit up like a fire had been sparked behind them and the smile he gave Ilhoon, shy as it was, was blinding. Ilhoon swallowed the lump that materialized in his throat and shifted closer still, pressing his forehead to the glass, and on the other side Sungjae did the same, their faces now kept apart only by that stupid layer of cold glass.

“I wish I could believe you,” Sungjae said and it was sad, despite the fire still burning in his eyes. “If you’re lying, you probably think it’s funny how naive I am.”

“I’m not lying,” Ilhoon chuckled, mirthless, watching with some fascination the way Sungjae’s breath fogged the glass. “I won’t try to convince you of that, though. Anything I said might be interpreted as a way to manipulate you into releasing me, so I won’t. I won’t ask.”

Sungjae closed his eyes, a shaky breath escaping his lips. “Fuck. Fuck you.” Ilhoon wished there was a way of comforting him, of telling him it would be ok, but he couldn’t convince Sungjae of something he didn’t believe himself. “I want to let you out so bad.”

“Sungjae,” Ilhoon called, gentle, careful, and Sungjae raised his eyes to look at him. “You should sell the mirror like you wanted to do in the beginning.”

“What? No! Why are you—”

“Sungjae, listen to me,” Ilhoon said, firm, as firm as he could manage. “This isn’t good for you, I can see you’re hurting over this and I told you, I won’t ask you to free me anymore. Sell the mirror, and move on.”

“No.”

“If the next owner lets me out, I’ll come running back to you,” Ilhoon promised, palms flat on the glass.

Sungjae jerkily shook his head. “No. If they don’t then I’ll never see you again.”

“And maybe that’s for the best.”

“No!” Sungjae’s voice was higher now, just a couple decibels away from screaming. “You said it yourself, I am the only person who ever came close to letting you out, how long will it take for another me to come along?”

Ilhoon didn’t have an answer for that.

Sungjae took a deep breath to calm himself down, at least a bit so he wouldn’t be screaming like a lunatic to a mirror. He sat up on his bed, running a hand through his hair as he pondered for a second longer before saying, “I can’t. I can’t risk that.”

Ilhoon sighed and flopped to the side, now lying belly up inside his mirror. “At least think about it.”

“It’s too late for that,” Sungjae said, looking back at Ilhoon with a little smile on his face. “Maybe I would have done that, back when I first met you. But now… Things are different now.”

Ilhoon sighed, resigned and smitten, while he looked up at Sungjae. “Maybe you really are as dumb as I thought.”

“Possibly,” Sungjae granted. “Or maybe I’m just in love.”

“You’re just proving my point, you know?” Ilhoon said, grinning fondly at him. “No good thing can come from falling for the wicked.”

“You’re hardly wicked,” Sungjae scoffed. “You’re not evil, I told you that once. Maybe they said it enough that you began believing it yourself, but you’re not evil, Ilhoonie.”

Ilhoon hummed, thoughtful. “Maybe. I still have done harm to others out of my own free will, and would do so again.”

“You’re hurt. You’re in pain and lashing out, and that doesn’t make you evil.”

“It doesn’t make everything I’ve done right.”

“No, it doesn’t. But it also doesn’t make you evil.”

Ilhoon sighed, tired, wishing he could sleep. Wishing for the bliss of being unconscious, even if for only a few minutes. “You’re probably right.”

There was a heavy silence following that entire exchange, Sungjae sitting on his bed staring at some point of the wall, and Ilhoon watching him quietly, mind miles away. He both regretted and didn’t telling his tale to Sungjae; they were closer, much closer, but that could also be what tore them apart. The knowing. Knowing what Ilhoon had done, how he became what he was, why he was put in there. He hoped Sungjae didn’t think too hard about it, didn’t look at it too closely.

“Ilhoonie?”

Sungjae’s voice calling for him broke his line of thought and he blinked, focusing on Sungjae once more. “Yes?”

“What happened to Half-hanged Mary? Did they try to kill her again?”

Ilhoon smiled to himself and shook his head. “No. She went on to live for about fourteen years after that. I think she was in her nineties when she passed.”

“Wow…” Sungjae sounded genuinely impressed. “And you just happened to know the poem from the top of your head?”

Ilhoon gave him a little shrug. “There’s not much to do in here other than recall poetry.”

“So you can recite poetry?”

“Mhm, I can,” Ilhoon said, before thinking for a second longer to add, “ _ some _ poetry, at the very least.”

Sungjae hummed, lying back down and turning to face Ilhoon again. “Recite something for me.”

“What, is this your way of asking me for a bedtime story?”

“Yes.”

Ilhoon giggled, wanting to pinch Sungjae’s cheeks. “Fine, but first you have to go brush your teeth because I know you haven’t yet.”

Sungjae rolled his eyes. “Ugh, fine,  _ mom _ .”

Ilhoon snickered and watched with fondness as Sungjae begrudgingly got out of bed to go brush his teeth, deciding that, yes, he was very happy. He didn’t want to think about how long that would last.

 

**☽☿☾**

 

It was that blur of colors again, the reds and golds and blacks, the voice calling for him. Sungjae had grown used to it, but there was something different this time. He felt— Hunted. There was a sense of urgency in the air, or danger, and Sungjae didn’t know what to do, where to run - if he even could run, because he didn’t think he could move at all.

There was the voice calling his name again, and it sounded  _ exactly _ like Ilhoon, but also not. It was twisted, distorted, it sounded as evil as Ilhoon was accused of being, but Sungjae refused to believe that, Ilhoon wasn’t evil, he  _ wasn’t _ —

_ No _ , he whimpered into the darkness,  _ no, you’re not him, you’re not— _

“Sungjae!”

Now that—  _ That _ was Ilhoon, kind and caring and definitely not evil.

“Sungjae, wake up!”

Sungjae followed that voice, Ilhoon’s voice, like a beacon, a lighthouse in a stormy night, and woke up with a loud gasp, chest heavy and covered in cold sweat. He was shaking like a leaf.

“Sungjae, are you alright?” Ilhoon had both hands pressed to the mirror, eyes wide with concern as he stared at him. “You were thrashing and crying, what happened!?”

“Nightmare,” Sungjae managed to reply, his voice hoarse, scratchy. “I’m fine.”

“You’re definitely not fine, you’re shaking all over,” Ilhoon pointed out, and Sungjae, taking one more deep inhale of air, laid back down and scoot as close to the mirror as he possibly could. Ilhoon placed a hand on the glass right over Sungjae’s own.

“I’m alright, Ilhoonie,” Sungjae said, managing a smile. He was so cold - he wasn’t sure it was an effect of the panic or if the temperature in the room had dropped. “I’ll be alright.”

“I wish I could do something,” Ilhoon lamented, lying back down inside his prison so he could be level with Sungjae. “I hate seeing you suffer like this, I hate it so much.”

“I know,” Sungjae breathed out shakily, watching Ilhoon through hazy eyes, through the fog of fear, but knowing Ilhoon was right there was a comfort. He felt much better having him so close. “If it happens again, just call my name.”

Ilhoon grimaced, probably for not being able to do anything more than calling for him, but he agreed with a nod.

Sungjae wished he could crawl into Ilhoon’s arms and let him soothe his fears, ease him back into slumber. He wished for his arms and his skin and his lips, he wished for his presence in the little moments of his life. He wished for pictures of Ilhoon on his phone, for those days that ran too long and required some sort of encouragement, a reminder of who was waiting for him at home. He wanted to take Ilhoon out for a date, wanted to introduce him to his friends and boast about how amazing his boyfriend was.

He was really starting to wonder if the apocalypse wasn’t a reasonable enough price to pay for that.


	7. All things rise and fall;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can actually pinpoint the moment i gave up, this entire chapter is a mess and i'm very sorry

Ilhoon watched as Sungjae entered the bedroom, followed close behind by his now ex-girlfriend. Ilhoon twisted his mouth with annoyance - it was silly and irrational, since Sungjae had broken up with her, allegedly, because he had stronger feelings for Ilhoon, but it still bothered him to see him close to Sooyoung. Jealous, even a little envious, because she could touch him if she wanted to.

Unlike Ilhoon.

It did help that Sungjae didn’t seem to be too interested in her presence, walking directly to where he’d left the cardboard box with her belongings in the corner. Ilhoon noticed the way she glanced at the bed, still pushed against the wall, and frowned with confusion. She didn’t say anything about it, though.

“Here you go, I think this is everything,” Sungjae said, lifting the box easily from the floor and handing it to Sooyoung. “I cleaned the apartment top to bottom a few days ago and this was all I could find of yours.”

Sooyoung hummed, taking the box in one arm before rummaging briefly through its contents with her free hand. “Yeah, looks like this is it.”

“If I find anything else I’ll let you know,” Sungjae said.

“Right, me too,” she agreed. Ilhoon assumed that meant she brought Sungjae’s items with her from wherever she lived.

The silence that followed was so awkward and tense that even Ilhoon wanted to run away to remove himself from that situation, no matter if he was but an expectator. Even Sami, sitting on the corner of the bed, looked uncomfortable.

Sooyoung was the one to break the silence. “You— You look like you’re doing better.”

Sungjae gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, I— Things are getting a lot better lately.”

“Good. You work hard, you deserve good things,” Sooyoung said, her smile also stiff.

“You do too.”

“Thanks,” she muttered. She looked towards the mirror, a flash of distaste crossing her eyes, and Ilhoon did the one thing anyone would do in his place.

He stuck out his tongue at her.

Of course, she couldn’t see that, but Sungjae could and he was obviously forcing himself not to laugh.

“You know,” she spoke again, “you probably won’t listen to me, as you usually do, but you should really get rid of that thing. Nothing good can come of it.”

Sungjae sighed and rolled his eyes, and Ilhoon just knew he wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying until the words were out of his mouth.

“You’re starting to sound just like Ilhoon.”

Sooyoung arched an eyebrow and turned to Sungjae. “Ilhoon? Who’s that?”

Sungjae’s eyes widened, the picture of a deer caught in the headlights, before he began babbling, “He’s— I’m— He’s my— He’s just—”

Sooyoung’s lips stretched over her teeth in a wicked Cheshire grin, one that was very similar to the ones Ilhoon himself would wear whenever he wanted to embarrass Sungjae.

He was starting to wonder if Sungjae had a type. Or a humiliation kink.

“Oh? Are you blushing?” she asked. Yes, Ilhoon could tell after taking a quick look at Sungjae. Yes, he was. 

“I’m not, stop it!” Sungjae squeaked, making both Ilhoon and Sooyoung laugh.

“You’re so easy to fluster, though,” she pointed out, her smile turning fond. “Are you happy?”

The question sobered up Sungjae instantly and he, too, smiled. “Yeah. I am.”

“Good. That’s all I want for you, you know,” Sooyoung said with a sigh. “This Ilhoon better treat you right, or I’m coming for him.”

Sungjae snorted and, glancing over her shoulder at Ilhoon in the mirror, answered, “I’ll give him a heads up.”

Ilhoon only arched an eyebrow at him, unamused. He knew very well that even if Sooyoung had a vendetta against Ilhoon there was nothing she could do, and Sungjae knew that too. Ilhoon was a) trapped inside a mirror, which meant he was, technically, safe from outside harm, and b) even if he weren’t in there,  _ he was an evil sorcerer of unspeakable power _ .

Sure, maybe he’d been defeated once when those villager assholes tricked him into that trap, but that was, like,  _ one _ time.

“Well… I should probably get going then,” Sooyoung finally declared, starting to move towards the door with her box of belongings in her arms.

“R-right, I’ll walk you out,” Sungjae stammered before following her out, leaving Ilhoon and Sami alone in the bedroom.

Ilhoon crossed his arms and sighed, looking over at the cat. He was getting along much better with her, too.

“He’s absolutely hopeless, isn’t he?” he asked the cat. Sami only looked at him briefly before looking away again, dismissive. “I know you agree with me, no need for that attitude.”

He listened to the muffled voices of Sooyoung and Sungjae saying their goodbyes at the front door, and then the door itself opening and closing again after a few seconds. It still took Sungjae a little while to come back, and when he did he was bringing along a cardboard box with belongings of his own - or so Ilhoon assumed, but there was no way it was something other than that.

“What’s that?”

“Just some stuff I left at Sooyoung’s dorm,” Sungjae responded. Bingo.

“Ah. Anything good?”

“Not really. Some clothes, some DVDs, you know, the usual stuff,” Sungjae replied with a shrug, leaving the box aside somewhere on the floor next to his bed. “It’s so weird, just now it really hit me that Sooyoung and I are done.”

Ilhoon hummed, quiet for a moment, before he looked up at Sungjae bashfully - which was weird, because why would he be feeling shy about that? It’s not like he was feeling guilty for ‘stealing’ Sungjae from Sooyoung.

...Fine. Maybe a little bit. She wasn’t  _ that _ bad.

“Are you alright?”

Sungjae only rolled one shoulder in response at first, taking a second longer to think about it before speaking. “I’m fine, I think. It’s just sad, you know? I might not be  _ in _ love with her anymore but I still love her, she’s a great person. I didn’t mean to hurt her like I did.”

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? We never mean to hurt the people we care about, but we do. It’s human nature and feelings are often fragile.”

Sungjae looked at Ilhoon for a moment and nodded slowly. “Yeah. You probably know that better than anyone.”

Ilhoon averted his eyes from Sungjae, that old guilt, that old grief, coiling like venomous snakes in the pit of his stomach. “Yes. I suppose I do.”

Sungjae groaned, as if just now realizing what he’d said, and approached the mirror. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you of that.”

“It’s alright,” Ilhoon managed to smile as he answered, looking at Sungjae once more. “It’s not like I ever forget it, so no harm done.”

“Ilhoonie— You don’t have to play tough with me,” Sungjae gently reminded him, placing a hand over the glass. Ilhoon placed his where Sungjae’s was, a gesture that’s been getting more and more common. “It’s fine to admit you’re hurting.”

Ilhoon chuckled through his nose, watching the way Sungjae’s fingertips were squished against the mirror. “I don’t think it would help much.”

“Talking about it might,” Sungjae pointed out. “It’s the whole premises of therapy, you talk about your problems, figure out what’s wrong, and find a way to heal or work through it.”

Ilhoon gave Sungjae a deadpan stare. “Therapy?”

“Yes!”

“Are you going to drag a doctor here and force them to bleed on my mirror, just so I can go to therapy?”

“I— I mean, no,” Sungjae answered, only a little flustered. “I’ve been thinking lately—”

Whatever it was Sungjae was thinking about remained a mystery, for his phone began ringing at that exact moment. Ilhoon startled, but nothing like Sungjae who almost jumped out of his skin at the sudden noise.

That was one sure way to ruin that intimate little moment.

Ilhoon broke into a fit of laughter - Sungjae getting the crap scared out of him was always amusing - while Sungjae himself rushed to pick up his phone.

There was a small ‘bleep’ that interrupted the tune, and Sungjae brought the device to his ear. Funny things, those cellphones. Telephones in general were fascinating, really, a very good advancement since his days. If anyone wanted to communicate long distance back then they had to send a letter that took  _ months _ to arrive, and then more and more months for a reply to come to them. And by then you’d only remember what the letter said if you had a copy of the one you sent. A mess.

“Hey, what’s up?” Sungjae was saying into the phone. Ilhoon heard a muffled voice answer, but he couldn’t really understand. From the way Sungjae’s expression dropped, how his eyes widened, it wasn’t good news. “What? Is he ok!? I— Yeah, I’m free right now, where did you take him?” Ilhoon listened to that side of the conversation with increased curiosity. “Alright, I’ll be there in a few.”

“What’s wrong, love?” Ilhoon asked while Sungjae said his goodbyes and ended the call.

“Eunkwangie collapsed, Minhyuk took him to the hospital,” Sungjae replied hurriedly, rushing back and forth around the room gathering a change of clothes and whatever else he needed to take with him.

“Oh,” Ilhoon said, unsure. He recognized the names, the one who collapsed the one that always refused to come near the mirror. Odd. “Is he alright?”

“I don’t know, I—” Sungjae stopped and took a deep breath to calm down, his face still the textbook picture of panic.  “I knew he was looking like shit the last time I saw him and Minhyuk said he was having trouble sleeping, but I— I didn’t know it was so bad, I thought he was sorta having the same problem as me and it wasn’t bad enough for me to collapse, so I don’t—”

“Sungjae, _ breathe _ ,” Ilhoon felt the need to say, and Sungjae was still present enough to stop and inhale deeply through his nose.

“Minhyuk said he’s fine now, but—” Sungjae rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes as he spoke, and Ilhoon had the suspicion he was trying not to cry. That crybaby of his.

“Go see him, you can tell me what’s going on later,” Ilhoon told him in an attempt of soothing him, and it looked like it worked, for Sungjae immediately nodded and went back to getting ready.

Ilhoon simply leaned against one wall of his prison and sighed. The next few hours would be awful.

 

**☽☿☾**

 

Sungjae barreled through the waiting room doors much like a wrecking ball would. Minhyuk, Hyunsik and Donggeun, already inside, even jumped on their seats with surprise.

“Where is he, is he ok?”

“Calm down,” Minhyuk said, raising one hand to halt Sungjae. “He’s fine, he’s resting right now.”

“He’s not dead, then? Ugh, thank  _ god _ ,” Sungjae more groaned than spoke and shuffled to sit down next to Hyunsik.

“Of course he’s not dead, what the hell?” Donggeun exclaimed, looking horrified.

“I was scared, ok!?”

“Stop screaming, this is a hospital,” Hyunsik whispered at them, and like two children they promptly snapped their mouths shut.

In a lower volume, Sungjae asked Minhyuk, “What exactly happened?”

“We were walking to the bus stop after grabbing coffee, same as usual,” Minhyuk started explaining, “and ever since he woke up he was looking sick, I told him to call in to work but he insisted he was fine. He always does this, you know how he is.” Minhyuk paused just to roll his eyes. “We were halfway to the bus stop when he just— Dropped. No warning, nothing, he just was there one second and on the floor the next.”

Sungjae quietly let the information sink in, staring ahead at the pristine white wall in front of him. He absolutely hated hospitals, all white and clean and smelling of ethanol and pine-scented disinfectant. Ugh. The receptionist was giving him a weird look and he ignored that, deciding to turn towards Minhyuk instead and ask, “Is something wrong with him? What did the doctor say?”

“I don’t know,” Minhyuk replied with drawn-out sigh. “He didn’t give me details. Apparently roommate doesn’t count as ‘family member or guardian’, all I know is that he’s resting. I think there’s an IV involved.

“But he’ll be fine, right?”

“Yeah… The doctor said he just needs to rest.”

There was something bothering Minhyuk, though, judging from the slight hitch between his brows, the way he was pressing his lips. Sungjae carefully asked, “What’s wrong? Is there something else?”

“I— I don’t know,” Minhyuk stammered, shaking his head minutely. “It’s stupid, you’ll think I’m going insane.”

Oh. Didn’t that sound familiar?

“Try me.”

Minhyuk looked over at Sungjae, then to Hyunsik and Donggeun, like he was trying to gauge their reactions, guess what their responses would be. Whatever he found seemed to be enough, or maybe Minhyuk just really needed to get it off his chest, but he finally took a deep breath and spoke again.

“When— When he collapsed,” he started, and Sungjae didn’t think he was imagining how Minhyuk’s voice was shaking, “I crouched down next to him, right? To see if he was alright. And he— First there was this noise, like a growl, but it was so low I thought I was imagining it because of the adrenaline, but then he— His face contorted and—  _ Fuck _ ,” Minhyuk cursed under his breath and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. “He didn’t look like himself. It wasn’t him.”

Whether they believed him or not, there was nobody laughing in the wake of Minhyuk’s tale.

 

**☽☿☾**

 

Whatever it was that had struck Sungjae’s friend, he recovered from it fast enough. Two days in the hospital and a couple more days resting at home, and he was as good as new - according to Sungjae. Ilhoon, as always, was forced to sit and wait for news, and then do his best to help Sungjae pick up the pieces from the trappings of his tiny little prison. He thought he’d grown used to it, to being trapped, to having nowhere to go and nothing to do, but since Sungjae made a home for himself right in the middle of his life, Ilhoon was growing more and more bitter about it.

He wanted out. He wanted to be out, he wanted to be with Sungjae, for the happy times and the bad times. And he couldn’t ask, he couldn’t say any of that to Sungjae, because chances were Sungjae would think he was lying and trying to manipulate him into freeing him, and Ilhoon couldn’t blame him - he hadn’t been the most reliable evil sorcerer around, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

But he wanted to be out so bad. Lying down next to Sungjae at night, something that had become a habit for them since the first time Sungjae put the mirror on the bed, watching him sleep but not being able to reach out and pull him close was torture. He just wanted to be with his boyfriend, was that such a terrible thing to want?

Ilhoon was stewing on that sticky puddle of bad thoughts when Sungjae entered the room after having spent a significant amount of time in the bathroom. There was a towel hanging over his head, and Ilhoon arched an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

“Please tell me you didn’t spend the past two hours playing with yourself in the shower.”

Sungjae gave him a sideways look and a wiggle of his eyebrows. Ilhoon snorted in response.

“I didn’t,” Sungjae finally said. “I did  _ this _ !” He announced and removed the towel from his head with a flourish, and Ilhoon took a second to understand what he was referring to.

His hair. Sungjae had dyed his hair. It wasn’t a screaming difference, but his once jet black hair was now a chocolate brown, and Ilhoon figured it would be a more obvious change once it had properly dried out.

“Do you like it?” Sungjae asked, shaking his head to make his hair flop around for emphasis.

Ilhoon couldn’t help a little smile, one that he tried to hide by looking down. “Yeah, it looks good.”

Sungjae beamed at him, like he’d taken sunlight and converted it into a smile, and Ilhoon wanted to be out. He wanted to be out, out there with Sungjae. “Good! I wanted to look pretty for you,” this was punctuated with a cheeky wink and a kiss that had Ilhoon laughing again. He was laughing too much lately. It was annoying but he couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed by it.

“That’s so unfair, though,” Ilhoon said, not thinking much, “I can’t do much to look pretty for you in return.” He looked down at his old robes and grimaced, and he didn’t even want to think about how his hair looked like - he never truly managed to fix it completely after the braid attempt fiasco. There were still so many knots in the back that he just couldn’t untangle.

“I mean, not that you have to do anything since you’re hot as fuck already, but—” Sungjae trailed off and hummed, face scrunching up as he was in deep thought for a few seconds. “You know what, hang on.”

Ilhoon only watched in absolute confusion as Sungjae moved to where he usually kept his laptop, and was even more confused when he sat down in front of the mirror, back resting on the glass, and started up the device. Ilhoon didn’t ask, simply sat down inside his prison and watched as Sungjae worked on whatever it was he had in mind.

He thought they would just watch a movie in a spontaneous sort of date, but Sungjae didn’t put on a movie. No, Sungjae was typing something and on the screen a colorful picture with some happy ladies wearing sunglasses appeared.

“Uhm, Sungjae?” Ilhoon called. “What the fuck?”

“This is an online store,” Sungjae explained as he clicked around stuff on the screen. Ilhoon didn’t have time to read the tiny letters before the screen changed again, now displaying various pictures of clothes and their prices. “I want you to choose some things.”

“Uh… Ok?” Ilhoon agreed, wrong-footed and uncertain. “Choose clothes?”

“Yes! Just tell me which of them you like best.”

“Alright, sounds easy enough,” Ilhoon decided. “Are they for you?”

“No. They’re for you.”

Now that gave Ilhoon pause, bafflement clear on his face as he stared at Sungjae. “For me?”

“Yes.”

“Uhm… I can’t wear them, though?”

“You can’t wear them  _ right now _ ,” Sungjae smartly corrected him, and Ilhoon felt his insides twist and turn with the implications of that. He didn’t like it.

“Sungjae… I don’t know where you’re going with this, but don’t be cruel to the point you’ll make me believe there’s a chance of me getting out when there isn’t,” he pleaded, for once not caring about his pride - it hurt too much to care about pride. 

“Noted,” Sungjae replied, and pushed the laptop sideways so it was closer to where Ilhoon was sitting. “Choose.”

“You’re going to drive me crazy someday, I just know it,” Ilhoon grumbled, to which Sungjae chortled; it made him smile, that sound.

So, swallowing the uncertainty, ignoring the hope, Ilhoon began looking through the many options of clothes, trying very hard to think, for the very first time, what he would like to wear if - when? - he got out of the mirror. What did he like? What would look good on him? Button downs, tank tops, sweaters, and so many colors, he didn’t have that many color options back in the day, all browns and grays and whites and blacks— It was a little overwhelming.

Actually,  _ very _ overwhelming.

“I have no idea what I should be looking for, there’s too much stuff there,” Ilhoon complained - more like whined - and Sungjae gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Alright, let’s work this through by sections,” he said, clicking around some more. “Starting with something simple— T-shirts?”

“Ok…”

Ilhoon sighed, feeling like a lost child in the middle of a festival and not the slightest bit excited about whatever Sungjae was trying to do, but he still diligently looked through the clothes, Sungjae slowly scrolling down the page so he could see every item. It took a while, but finally something sparked Ilhoon’s interest, a simple shirt with colorful patterns - not because the piece looked any good, but the colors were pretty. He wanted colors, was tired of his old, dull dark grey robes.

After the first one, it got easier.

For the next hour or so, they went through pages and pages of clothes and, by the time Sungjae had to leave for his afternoon classes, Ilhoon had chosen about three full outfits - all very colorful. Sungjae looked amused as he shut off his laptop, a little smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I was expecting you to go for darker clothes,” Sungjae mused as he put the laptop away. “And maybe leather.”

Ilhoon scoffed at him and shook his head. “I’ve been wearing dark clothes for centuries, looking like a sparkly unicorn vomited rainbows all over me would be a nice change.”

“That’s fair.”

“Sungjae,” Ilhoon called, sobering up a little after that mini-shopping spree, “you didn’t actually buy all those things, right?”

“Look at the time! I gotta run,” Sungjae said dramatically, scurrying around the room to grab his backpack, “I’ll see you later tonight, Ilhoonie,” he blew him a kiss as he walked past, “behave yourself in there, love you, bye!”

 Sungjae left the room and the apartment, the loud  _ bang _ of the front door closing a clear enough indication, but Ilhoon was shell-shocked and staring at the bedroom door, his mouth hanging open like a particularly dumb personification of the village idiot.

After who knows how long, Ilhoon turned towards Sami who had been grooming herself on top of a nearby dresser, unbothered, but Ilhoon needed a witness, someone to corroborate what he’d just heard. Sami was the only one there, so— Not like he had any other options.

“Did you— Did that just happen?” Ilhoon asked the cat, who didn’t spare him a single glance. “He just said he loves me? He— Did I hear that right?”

Sami continued to lick her fur and ignore him, but Ilhoon had transcended that mortal coil and was now trapped inside a cave in his mind that kept echoing ‘love you’ over and over again. He— Sungjae loved him? Did he mean that or was it a spur of the moment thing? People are strange and Sungjae was very strange, so saying those words might not carry the meaning Ilhoon thought - hoped - it carried. Ilhoon was reeling with that; other than members of his family, nobody had ever said those words to him. If Sungjae meant them—

Ilhoon didn’t even notice he was grinning like a fool and leaning against one side of his mirror like his bones had turned to slime. Sungjae loved him.  _ Loved _ him. He was so happy he felt like that feeling wouldn’t be contained in that tiny space, that his happiness would be what finally caused that mirror to explode and shatter and free him - it wouldn’t, he knew, but that’s what it felt like.

But, as such things go, Ilhoon was not meant to be happy for even a second.

While he was there, sighing like a lovesick teen, Sami was raising her hackles where she was standing on the dresser and staring at the doorway. Ilhoon only noticed when she began making a low, continuous growl type sound, almost a howl, and Ilhoon followed her line of sight. He couldn’t hear anything or see anything, but he felt— Strange. Like something was wrong, like something was there with them, in the apartment somewhere and steadily coming closer to the bedroom.

All of a sudden, Sami hissed, the sound high pitched and threatening, before she jumped from the dresser and ran to hide under the bed faster than Ilhoon had ever seen her move.

He had followed her with his eyes, and when he looked back again he discovered what she was running from. Standing there at the door, was a familiar and yet grotesque sight of the one responsible for all of it, everything that had gone wrong in Ilhoon’s life.

“Hello, love,” the demon drawled, stepping inside. His voice echoed inside his head more than it did in his ears.

Ilhoon scoffed. “I get wanting to make an entrance, but scaring the cat was cheap.”

“Oh, please,” the demon scoffed in return with the same amount of disdain Ilhoon had put into his own scoff. “Like you haven’t scared the cat yourself. I’ve been keeping an eye on you, I would know.”

Ilhoon pursed his lips and said nothing else. The pieces were slowly starting to fit in the incomplete puzzle Ilhoon had been trying to work out in his head.

“You’re the one giving Sungjae nightmares,” Ilhoon finally concluded, and judging from the way the demon grinned, he was right. And he was angry. “You absolute piece of shit, when I get out of here I’m going to banish you to the deepest pit of hell for touching my boyfriend!”

“Ooh, I’m quaking with fear!” the demon teased with a sneer, slowly coming closer until he stopped right in front of the mirror. “I’m not even giving your boy-toy nightmares anymore, it didn’t work because he _trusts_ you for some reason.” The demon made a sound of disgust. “He didn’t fall for any of it, because _nhenhenhe_ _Ilhoon wouldn’t do this me_! Blergh, so annoying.”

“Good, then stop fucking with his head and piss off!”

“Zip it, jailbird,” the demon ordered, pointing a gnarly clawed finger at him. “I’m only here as a courtesy since you were always my very favorite, and I thought you’d like to know this: if your little sweetheart tries to free you, he dies.”

Those words left Ilhoon feeling cold, and his immediate reaction was to shake his head to reject them. “No, you can’t— You can’t hurt him! You can’t do harm to mortals directly, you—”

“Oh, I won’t be the one killing him,” the demon interrupted him as his grin grew even wider. “You see, I found the  _ perfect _ vessel. One of his friends, the weird tall one? Turns out he’s a descendant of one of the very men that put you in there.”

Ilhoon’s stomach dropped. If his heart could beat, it would have stopped right then and there.

He wasn’t sure which of Sungjae’s friends he was referring to, but the gears in his mind were working overtime and at full capacity - the one who were always too afraid of approaching the mirror, the one who collapsed. Afraid of coming near the mirror because of the echo of his ancestor’s actions, collapsing because he’d been possessed. Now that he had the full picture it made perfect sense, but he hadn’t been able to see this coming. If he had— 

“You already know what that means, yes? His blood has been in contact with my magic before, so I can possess him quite easily and finish off your darling through him. Isn’t it great?”

“He’s not going to free me, he’s not stupid,” Ilhoon tried, but he couldn’t convince even himself. Yook Sungjae was, in fact, stupid enough to free him. And he’s been giving some weird vibes about it, like he was actually considering— No, like he had already  _ made up his mind _ about it.

“I’ve been in his head, I know what he is and what he isn’t. I just thought I’d let you know what’s coming,” the demon continued, void-like eyes looking around the room distractedly.

“I’ll just tell him what you said and he’ll—”

“You think I haven’t thought about that?” he interrupted, and now he looked downright terrifying with the way he was grinning at him, sharp teeth in full display and bottomless eyes gleaming with bliss. “You won’t be able to tell him a single thing, and even if you could he won’t believe you.”

Before Ilhoon could react in any way, before he could even fully process all of it, the demon reached inside the mirror, arm easily passing through the glass as it would the surface of a pool, and grabbed him by the throat. Ilhoon gasped for air, suddenly able to breathe, suddenly able to feel the pain of that hand grabbing his neck, the touch so cold it burned his skin and the magic—  _ The magic _ —

“May this be a lesson to you, little wizard,” the demon spoke, voice distorting the sound waves around them, making it sound louder, more dangerous, more  _ wrong _ , “you will never get out. You will never have a happy ending. That’s your punishment for crossing me and trying to ruin everything with the power  _ I  _ gave you.”

Ilhoon tried freeing himself using his nails to scratch at the demon’s arm, try to wrangle himself free, but he wouldn’t budge; he couldn’t breathe, panic swelling inside him like a tidal wave and tears running down his face, tears of fear and despair and anger. His eyes were burning with them. 

And then it was over. The demon let go of him and Ilhoon fell limp to the ground, coughing and shaking and crying, unable to control himself. He didn’t have to breathe anymore, his tears had stopped falling, but he continued to sob regardless.

“Enjoy the dimwit while you can. Who knows how long it’ll be until another one comes along,” the demon said and, wiggling his fingers at Ilhoon in a cheeky goodbye, he was gone as if he’d never been there at all.

Ilhoon was left alone again, the sounds of his sobs loud in the silence that followed in the wake of that confrontation.

Sungjae was going to die. Sungjae was going to die and there was nothing Ilhoon could do to stop it. And it would be his fault, his fault for entering Sungjae’s life uninvited, his fault for allowing himself to fall, for allowing  _ Sungjae _ to fall, for making terrible decisions that were still affecting the people Ilhoon loved even centuries later. He couldn’t even warn him of the danger - he could feel the magic thrumming in his veins, taking hold, blending with his bloodstream.

Sungjae was going to die and Ilhoon would be forced to sit there and watch it happen.

All he could do was insist that Sungjae didn’t set him free, try his damn best to argue that it was best to keep him locked up and hope it would be enough for the mule that was a determined Sungjae to listen to him.

And he already knew that was not going to happen.

 

**☽☿☾**

 

As expected, Sungjae wasn’t listening to him. It was like Sungjae was under a spell of his own, like the demon had done something to force Sungjae to have his mind set on freeing Ilhoon or a spell for him to dismiss Ilhoon’s every concern. He just couldn’t get through to him - ‘he won’t believe you’, the demon said. Well. That sounded about right.

And he tried. He was trying everything he could think, he threatened to break up with him, said he couldn’t wait to be out and make the world implode, he even said Sami would be the first to go because what better way to get his point across than threaten his cat-daughter? It was all for nothing - Sungjae would just brush him off, say he was being dramatic, probably just nervous with the prospect of being in the outside world after so long, and while, yes, he had a point, that was absolutely not the case.

He tried telling him his life was on the line every chance he got, but whenever he opened his mouth he felt like he was choking, something blocking the sound in his throat, and the words would just not come out. All he managed was to croak like an old frog with laryngitis and confuse the living crap out of Sungjae.

It went like that for two entire days and half of a third one. Ilhoon was losing his mind inside the mirror, and Sungjae was lost in a daze, barely even noticing. He was definitely under some kind of spell, which also meant the demon was cheating - as per demon fashion. He  _ wanted _ Sungjae to try to free him. Being a demon meant that he was not allowed to directly mess with mortals, and free will was the biggest no-no; he could not coax Sungjae into freeing Ilhoon. What he could do - and most likely had done - was use a decision Sungjae had already made and have him focus on that decision. Stir him on one direction without actually forcing him there.

Ilhoon should have expected that from the demon. He had a way of making things go the way he planned, always, and Ilhoon making a deal with him was one of the things the demon had made happen in the background. He was a snake in the grass always ready to pounce upon an unknowing victim and sink in his fangs.

Ilhoon would know. He slept with him.

Sungjae was running up and down the apartment that day, cleaning and tidying up and fussing. Ilhoon had no idea what was going on, but he had a very bad feeling about it - Sungjae was preparing for something. Ilhoon had a suspicion of what it was. He wasn’t happy about it. Not in the slightest.

“Sungjae,” Ilhoon called. He felt weak, tired, his body heavy in a way that it hadn’t been in centuries. The weight of the new magic in him was taking its toll. “Sungjae, what are you doing?”

“I’m cleaning!” Sungjae announced, stuffing some clothes - presumably clean - inside his closet. He had balled them all up and was shoving them in there without a care in the world. “Today’s an important day!”

“Why, is it someone’s birthday?” Ilhoon tried sounding light and unbothered, but he couldn’t quite get the tone right. 

“In a way, I guess,” Sungjae answered after a moment’s thought and turned to Ilhoon, his grin wide and bright and stupid. “I’m introducing you to my friends today.”

Ilhoon’s mind came to a sudden halt.

“You’re doing what now?”

“I’ll introduce you to my friends!” Sungjae repeated, brighter than before. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you with the whole Eunkwang thing going on, but this is what I’ve been thinking about! I want my friends to meet you, and I want them to know everything, the curse, our relationship, every little thing.”

“I mean,” Ilhoon mumbled, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, “hopefully not  _ every _ little thing.”

“I’ll make sure to omit the fact that you’re a big fat tsundere, don’t worry.”

“Uh, thanks? That’s not what I was referring to, but ok.”

“It wasn’t?” Sungjae asked curiously as he finished shoving his clothes into the closet and closed the door; it didn’t close all the way, likely because the clothes were spilling over. “What were you referring to then?”

“I don’t want to give your friends a bad first impression, so… Maybe don’t mention my tragic backstory and the end of days thing.”

“Alright, my lips are sealed,” Sungjae agreed, pantomiming zipping his lips shut, locking them and tossing an invisible key over his shoulder. “I’ll only tell them how great you are.”

Ilhoon couldn’t keep looking at Sungjae; he looked down instead, ashamed and dreading what was to come.

“Sungjae— You really should get rid of this mirror while you have the chance.”

“Ugh, we talked about this already,” Sungjae groaned with a roll of his eyes. “It’s just the jitters talking, Ilhoonie, it’s ok to be nervous.”

“But Sungjae—” he began, but his voice failed him again, the words like claws raking at his throat. He coughed instead.  _ If you do this you are going to die _ , he wanted to say. He couldn’t.

“You ok in there?” Sungjae asked, approaching the mirror, and Ilhoon pressed both his palms on the surface of the glass. Sungjae did the same on the other side. “What’s wrong? You look upset.”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“With what?”

“Just— Everything.”

“You’re talking nonsense, Hoonie,” Sungjae teased. “Everything will be fine.”

“Oh, and how do you know that?” Ilhoon snapped, frustration finally getting the better of him. “Got a crystal ball hidden up your ass? Just fucking promise me you’ll be careful, you dumbfuck!”

“What the fuck!? Yeah, I promise, are you happy now?” Sungjae responded and stepped away from the mirror. Ilhoon immediately regretted losing his temper, but the clock was ticking and he didn’t have time to waste on being nice.

He had one option and one option only - if Sungjae was planning on introducing him to his friends, that meant that he would likely not just outright free him. If he knew Sungjae at all, then the most likely scenario would be Sungjae revealing Ilhoon  _ in _ the mirror to his friends first, and then making a big deal out of releasing him as some sort of romantic grand gesture - a terrible idea, because Ilhoon would come out of there gasping for air and looking like a hot mess, unlike what Sungjae probably had in mind which was him extending his hand like prince charming and elegantly leading Ilhoon out of his prison.

If he was correct in his assumption, then he would be able to communicate directly with his friends and tell  _ them _ to stop Sungjae from freeing him. His friends would be able to stop him, physically restrain him. Maybe he could talk one of them into taking the mirror away somewhere Sungjae couldn’t find him.

Sure, the demon would likely be amongst them and would do something to stop that plan from happening, but it was all Ilhoon could think of doing.

So he had to play along for now, even if he hated the idea of gambling with Sungjae’s life like that.

“I’m sorry,” Ilhoon said, forcing down all those raging emotions inside him. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, I’m just nervous.”

Sungjae looked over at him for a long moment before exhaling slowly and nodding in acknowledgment. “I know. It’s alright, Ilhoonie, I know this is a lot to take in.”

“Yeah… It is,” Ilhoon said and it wasn’t a lie. It really was a lot, just not what Sungjae thought it was. “What time are your friends getting here?”

“Oh, shit,” Sungjae exclaimed and took a quick look at the alarm on his nightstand, scrambling to take the mirror off the wall. “They’ll be here any second, come on.”

Ilhoon merely sighed and sat down on the ground - something he found made it much easier for himself whenever Sungjae moved him from one place to the other - and braced himself for the wait that would follow. The next hour or so would change everything, for better or for worse. Ilhoon couldn’t stop it, only get ready for the inevitable impact and the pieces he would have to pick up in the aftermath.

Sungjae left him in the living room, the mirror rested against a wall, and from there he could see the front door of the apartment perfectly, as well as the couch that was right in front of him, and a ways to his left a door he assumed led to the kitchen. The balcony was to his right, and seeing it made him feel funny, memories of that rainy night he shared with Sungjae at what felt like an eternity ago. He didn’t want to even imagine the possibility of not having any more rainy days to spend with Sungjae, and yet that possibility was real and imminent and he was caught in the middle of an incoming disaster he couldn’t avoid.

Whatever happened, Ilhoon would go on. Sungjae wouldn’t.

And if he did, somehow, manage to make that dumb plan of his work, then he would never see Sungjae again. Ilhoon could not win either way.

But Sungjae had a chance still, slim as it may be. He would risk everything to give him that chance.

“Sungjae,” Ilhoon called, his voice wavering, weak, a wisp of sound. Sungjae looked down at him, and Ilhoon could feel his eyes on him. He didn’t look up to meet his gaze; it felt like too much. “Whatever happens— I just want you to know that I really do love you.”

There was no answer for a moment, the words floating over them, hovering there like heavy rainclouds. The truth was always hard for Ilhoon, especially the truth of his feelings, but those words— Those were easy. The easiest truth he’s ever had to face and accept.

Sungjae sucked in a breath, shaky, nervous. “Ilhoon—”

A series of sharp knocks on the door interrupted him, and whatever Sungjae was about to say would likely never be spoken. Ilhoon continued not to look up, seeing only Sungjae’s legs move as he walked away to go open the door. Push was about to come to shove, then. As Sungjae opened the door and greeted his friends, Ilhoon got himself up and on his feet again, the weight of all things unsaid and undone on his back, on his heart. If he could cry, he would be weeping.

When he looked up, it was to stare directly at the demon’s eyes - eyes that were hidden behind the very human eyes of Sungjae’s friend, and even through them he could see the smug disdain the demon reserved for him, the look of someone who already knew they were going to win.

For all that he was certain of his victory, though, the demon was still smart enough to keep up appearances, and so he squeaked and jumped back upon seeing the mirror and exclaimed, “Ah! Cover that thing!”

“I will  _ not _ cover it,” Sungjae replied, sounding almost offended. “Quit your drama and sit down before you collapse again, Kwangie.”

“He’s right, come on,” the one called Minhyuk said, guiding Eunkwang to the couch. “Doctor said to take it easy.”

“So, what did you have to talk about that was so important that you called all of us over?” Donggeun asked, following the previous two to the couch.

“You better be dying, I was planning on sleeping all day,” that was definitely beer-stain from the other night speaking. His shirt was stain free that day, but Ilhoon still remembered his face.

“Don’t say stuff like that, Changsubie,” the last friend spoke as he entered, and this one had a very bright, very cute smile. “Nobody’s dying.”

_ Oh, if only he knew _ , Ilhoon bitterly thought. 

“I’m not dying,” Sungjae said and  _ oh, if only he knew—  _ “but I have something important to tell— No, to show you.”

Ilhoon squared his shoulders, his eyes not leaving the demon. He already knew where Sungjae was going with that whole thing if his expression was any indication, and he was definitely going to try to stop him. That plan was hopeless, but if only one of Sungjae’s friends could see him it would be enough, just  _ one  _ out of four— 

“Uh, so,” Sungjae began after clearing his throat. “I, uh… I have a boyfriend.” A series of teasing whistles and comments followed, and Sungjae had at least the decency of looking embarrassed. “Wait, wait! That’s what I want to tell you about, my boyfriend, he’s— Different.”

Ilhoon scoffed from inside his mirror. ‘Different’ was certainly a colorful way of putting it. Sungjae heard him and gave him a look over his shoulder that said ‘be quiet for a sec, babe’, before he turned back to his friends to continue his confession.

“Different how?” Changsub asked. “Like an alien or something?”

“Uhm— No, not an alien.”

“Does he have a rare illness?” Pretty Smile asked next.

“Not that I know of…?” Sungjae said with a lilt and looked at Ilhoon in a questioning way. Ilhoon simply sighed.

“No, I don’t have any illnesses, rare or not.”

“Ok, no, he doesn’t have a rare illness.”

“Did you just look to the mirror for answers?” Donggeun asked as he looked from Sungjae to the mirror and back again at Sungjae like the world had turned upside-down.

“No, I looked at my boyfriend for answers.”

“Your boyfriend is a mirror?”

“No, he’s  _ in _ the mirror.”

And there it was. The shove.

“I’m not sure I follow,” Minhyuk said.

“The mirror is magic,” Sungjae tried explaining and Ilhoon really wished he was a little more articulate than that. Or more hands-on than that. “My boyfriend is trapped inside the mirror by magic.”

A beat of silence and Minhyuk spoke again, “You’re talking crazy right now, Sungjae.”

“I know, I know how this sounds, I thought I was going crazy for a long time too, but it’s true,” Sungjae insisted. The demon was obviously starting to add two plus two in his mind, and he would figure out what Ilhoon was planning. Sungjae had to move faster, stop talking and just show them Ilhoon was in there, to at least  _ one _ of them. “His name is Ilhoon and he—”

“Stop.”

The demon finally spoke and interrupted Sungjae, who sputtered, confused. “Wh-what?”

“Sungjae, be quick about it, please!” Ilhoon urged him from the mirror, tired of playing the waiting game. It was too late, though - the demon was on to them.

Sungjae recovered - barely - and continued, “I’ll show you, you just have to come here and—”

“No!”

The demon growled, and the voice that came out of the human-looking Eunkwang was enough to startle all of them into the awareness that, yes, that was definitely not an ordinary situation, and the spark of realization in their eyes came just as the demon lunged at Sungjae and tackled him to the ground.

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing!?” Minhyuk demanded as he got up from the couch and moved to try to pry Eunkwang away from Sungjae, much like the others were doing. “Eunkwang, stop that!”

“Sungjae, you have to run, get out of here!” Ilhoon shouted from the mirror, slamming his palms against the glass trying to get Sungjae’s attention, but it was useless - Sungjae was more concerned with trying to push a possessed Eunkwang away from him, otherwise he really would not be able to get up.

Somehow, Minhyuk managed the hook his arms around Eunkwang’s and pulled him back, both falling on the ground. Sungjae scrambled to his feet and stumbled to the mirror and— Oh. Oh no.

“No, no, no, forget about me, you have to turn around and run!” Ilhoon tried warning him, but Sungjae kept coming. “Sungjae, don’t!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“You stupid fucking dumbass, just do as I say for  _ once _ —” Ilhoon said at the very same time Sungjae reached for the chain. “No!”

A shrill screech cut through the air and the demon freed himself from Minhyuk’s bear hug, flying - literally  _ flying _ \- at Sungjae to tackle him to the ground again. The impact caused Sungjae to hit the wall hard, and Ilhoon couldn’t see what was happening from the mirror; all he could do was hear the sounds of the struggle that followed, the terrible sound of what was likely Sungjae’s head hitting the wall repeatedly and the demon howling with whatever wicked emotion he was feeling.

It couldn’t have been more than five seconds and Sungjae’s friends were upon them once more, prying possessed Eunkwang away from Sungjae as best as they could. The demon was much too strong for them, though - the first one to go flying across the room was Donggeun, tumbling over the couch and landing somewhere behind it, out of sight. The second was Pretty Smile, and from the sounds of it he was thrown towards the hallway that led to the bathroom. And then it was beer-stain - Changsub - being shoved towards the mirror, making it wobble upon impact and— 

Changsub hit his head on the frame. Ilhoon felt hope swell in his chest seeing the smudge of blood on the glass, the cut on Changsub forehead, small but there,  _ enough _ .

“Hey!” Ilhoon called, banging on the glass again. “Hey, you, look here!”

Next to them the struggle was still going on, Minhyuk still caught up in the valiant attempt of helping Sungjae, and there was no time to lose. Ilhoon hit the glass harder.

“Hey, in here!”

Changsub, groaning in pain and pressing a palm to the cut on his forehead, blearily looked behind himself from where he’d fallen on his ass on the floor, and upon seeing Ilhoon he shouted and scrambled away. “What the fuck, who are you!?”

“I can help with the demon possession thing!” Ilhoon responded and pointed behind him. “The chain behind the mirror, break it!”

“What!?”

“Break the chain or your friends will die, it’s really fucking simple!” Ilhoon shrieked, impatient.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck—” Changsub chanted under his breath as he shakily got up and stumbled to the mirror. “I take it you’re Ilhoon.”

“The one and only, now break the fucking chain already!”

“Yes, sir!” he said, and Ilhoon assumed he was doing as told because the next thing he said was, “Please, don’t hurt me.”

There was a loud metallic  _ snap  _ and the glass Ilhoon had been leaning on was suddenly gone. He fell forward, almost hitting his face on the ground as he did, and coughed, choked, wheezed. The air around him was thick with magic - the demon’s, his own - and it burned his throat, and were his robes always that scratchy? But he couldn’t dwell on it, there were more important things than having to breathe and scratchy robes.

“What the actual living fuck—” he heard Changsub’s voice as he pushed himself up, and turned to find him staring at him with his mouth agape. 

“Hi,” Ilhoon croaked, “I’m Ilhoon, Sungjae’s boyfriend. Excuse me for a second.”

He turned his back on dumbstruck Changsub again in favor of looking at the demon who had just managed to get rid of Minhyuk by throwing him across the room; he landed on the couch and bounced off to the floor. Sungjae, on the other hand, was on the ground, unconscious but alive if the rise and fall of his chest was any indication, but judging from the amount of blood pooling under his head that could change soon.

And Ilhoon was pissed.

Taking the advantage of the demon having his back turned to him, Ilhoon reached around his head and pressed his palm to his face, willing the magic inside him to come to life again after so many centuries of dormancy.

“I told you not to touch my boyfriend!”

The demon cried with pain, the magic thrumming from Ilhoon’s hand directly into his head, his mind. His magic was stronger than it used to be, Ilhoon dimly noted, likely from the years he’d been accumulating it inside himself, but physically he was weak - no match for a demon possessing a healthy grown man. The demon grabbed his arm and pulled, and with a gasp of surprise the world flipped over and Ilhoon was thrown to the ground, the demon upon him again before he even had the time to get his bearings.

The demon raised him up by the neck, and Ilhoon took every bit of fight left in him to try and break free - it wasn’t enough.

“You’re ruining everything!” the demon shouted at his face, much like a bratty teenager would. Ilhoon scratched at his arms, kicked him, but the demon wouldn’t budge. “You are  _ not _ going to bring forth the end days, I have souls to corrupt and feed on!”

“I don’t want the stupid end days anymore, it’s been centuries, you dumbass!” Ilhoon spat back with some effort - it was very hard to talk when there was a possessed guy trying to strangle him - and used all his strength to reach forward and grab at the demon’s face again. “Update your info for once, will ya?”

And with that, Ilhoon brought forth his magic again and spoke the words of a spell he thought long forgotten - it wasn’t forgotten, though, for the magic in his blood remembered it perfectly. He spoke the enchantment loud and clear, his pronunciation of the ancient words perfect, and the demon shrieked as the spell took hold. With the amount of will Ilhoon was pouring into that spell, that demon would likely be banished from the mortal realm for as long as Ilhoon had been trapped in the mirror - served him right.

There was a bright flash of blinding light, the demon’s inhuman growls echoing in the wake of that moment, and it was over. Ilhoon fell to the ground, as did Eunkwang, now freed from the demon’s grasp, unconscious.

Ilhoon was wide awake and more aware of the world around him than he’d been in centuries - every sound, every smell, every texture - but none of it mattered, only Sungjae mattered. Sungjae was still knocked out on the floor, and Ilhoon rushed to him, crawling to him on his fours as he was too lost in desperation to get up properly. There was an ugly gash on the back of Sungjae’s head where the demon had probably slammed it against the wall, and it was bad - he’d lost a lot of blood. Was still losing a lot of blood.

Ilhoon didn’t waste any more time and placed his hands on each side of Sungjae’s head, murmuring a healing spell under his breath and again, the will he was pouring into it was strong enough to, figuratively, raise the dead - because nothing could  _ actually _ raise the dead.

But Sungjae would be fine, he had to, he  _ had to _ —

Upon finishing the spell, Ilhoon breathed shakily, heavily, not used to needing to do so, not used to feeling his face wet with tears, not used to his heart hammering inside his chest like a war drum at full speed. He caressed Sungjae’s cheeks with his thumbs as he cradled his face, careful, so careful one would think Sungjae was made of delicate crystals.

“Sungjae, please, please, open your eyes—” Ilhoon mumbled, leaning forward until his forehead was pressed to Sungjae’s. He closed his eyes tight, warm teardrops trickling down onto Sungjae’s face, and Ilhoon never wished for power more in his life, to be able to bring Sungjae back. His wound had closed, but it was useless if he was already gone when the spell took hold. He couldn’t be, he couldn’t, they were so close, they didn’t even start yet— “Please, don’t you dare leave me now, you asshole.”

“I love you too,” came the mumbled reply and Ilhoon jolted, eyes snapping open, and it was a relief so grand all Ilhoon could do was sob and crumble onto Sungjae’s chest.

He didn’t care about the audience, Sungjae’s friends talking in the background, recovering from the struggle; he couldn’t make out what they were saying, too concerned with the well being of the idiot on the floor beneath him to pay attention.

“Fuck, I thought I lost you, I thought you were dead because of me, I—”

“I’m alright,” Sungjae whispered, and Ilhoon shuddered at the feeling of his large hand carding through his hair, the touch so soothing Ilhoon felt like he’d melted. “What are you doing out of your eternal prison?”

“Saving your ass, obviously,” Ilhoon gave a might sniffle after answering and sat up so he could wipe his eyes with the sleeves of his robes. There was no dignity to squander anymore, but he enjoyed the illusion of it. The effort was in vain, however - his tears were still flowing and showed no sign they would stop any time soon. “A ‘thank you’ would be appreciated.”

Sungjae grinned that shit-eating grin of his and carefully pushed himself up. He winced and Ilhoon jerked with concern, leaning in to check on him, but the moment he did one of Sungjae’s arms was looped around his middle and he was pulled forward, chest flush against Sungjae’s.

Ilhoon was not used to many things yet, but he decided he didn’t mind getting used to the feeling of Sungjae pressed against him, his temperature, the smell of him, the texture of his skin.

The taste of his lips.

Soft and pliant, vaguely salty from all the tears, moving tenderly against Ilhoon’s own lips. Paradise.

It was brief, far too brief for how long he’d yearned for it, but still like a breath of air after almost drowning. Ilhoon hadn’t noticed he’d been grasping at Sungjae’s blood-soaked shirt, how his body had tensed up to the point where he could be mistaken by a statue, but Sungjae was smiling, wide and blinding, and Ilhoon found he didn’t care if he seemed a little desperate.

“Thank you,” Sungjae murmured against his lips, his breath warm hitting his cold skin. Ilhoon heard it like a shout, the sound rippling all through his body like an electric current.

He couldn’t find the words to reply to that, the only noise that came out of his lips being a choked up little sob as he let himself drop into Sungjae’s arms, face buried in the crook of his neck and arms wrapped tight around him, like he feared Sungjae would run away or disappear if he didn’t hold on to him. Sungjae just held him back, one hand resting on the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair.

“I’m alright, you saved me,” Sungjae whispered in his ear and Ilhoon closed his eyes again when a new wave of tears hit. “You saved me and you’re free, it’s over.”

Ilhoon laughed through the tears, the sound muffled against Sungjae’s neck. He wanted to come up with something snarky to say, but he wasn’t even sure how to use his voice anymore, or how to stop crying so he could speak, or how to keep breathing through it all because he somehow kept forgetting. It was so much. Temperature and smell and taste and his internal organs were so  _ loud _ and it all felt so wonderful, so perfect— 

The moment was interrupted by a voice coming from somewhere behind him.

“Uhm… We get it, you two really dig each other, but shouldn’t we like, call an ambulance or get Eunkwangie to a hospital?”

“Donggeunie, shut up,” Sungjae groaned, arms squeezing Ilhoon even tighter. “Eunkwang is fine, now everyone out, I want to spend the rest of the day ravaging this sexy evil sorcerer that was trapped in my mirror.”

“Are you even listening to yourself right now?” another voice rang out and Ilhoon moved his head just enough to find out who was the source - Minhyuk. He was splayed out on the floor, legs open and back resting on the side of the couch, looking like a train wreck. “You almost died and all you’re thinking about is having sex with the dude that was living in your mirror!?”

“I’m not dead and this dude is really fucking hot,” Sungjae defended himself and Ilhoon gave him a slap on the arm, not too hard. His tears had subsided some, at least. Sungjae grinned at him. “But yeah, I admit I’m not all there yet.”

“See?” Donggeun scoffed.

“It’s the magic,” Ilhoon explained to Sungjae, specifically. He really couldn’t care less about the others. “You were already under a spell before and I had to use a lot of magic to heal you. Your body will feel a little heavy and your head a little light, but you’ll be fine in a couple days.”

“See?” Sungjae mimicked Donggeun’s voice in a mocking tone. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“What about Eunkwang?” Changsub asked, stepping into Ilhoon’s line of vision to kneel next to Eunkwang, still passed out on the floor. He had a little burn mark on his forehead, one that looked suspiciously like a magic circle - which it was - but other than that he was safe and alive and perfectly well.

“He’ll be fine too. For what I could tell he wasn’t possessed for long, so all he needs to do is sleep it off. His body is sound, but his mind might be a bit jumbled. He needs rest,” Ilhoon informed solemnly before sheepishly adding, “and thanks. For releasing me.”

Changsub looked back at him over his shoulder and smiled. “Nah. Thank  _ you _ for saving my best friend.”

“We should probably still take Eunkwang to the hospital,” Pretty Smile spoke as he shakily got up from where he’d been sitting on the couch. When he got there, Ilhoon had no idea. “He took a pretty big hit on the head.”

“I agree,” Minhyuk said, pushing himself up and wincing as he moved towards Eunkwang, easily lifting him up on his arms princess-style so he could carry him out. “This is a lot to take in, so once Eunkwang is fine let’s get together again so you can explain what the hell just happened.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sungjae easily agreed.

“You two coming with or are you really going to have sex after having a literal magic battle in your living room?” Donggeun asked, one eyebrow arched. Sungjae’s only response to that was a leery grin and an eyebrow wiggle. Donggeun sighed and followed the others out the apartment.

And then they were alone.

Ilhoon cleared his throat and tried to pull back from the hug, but Sungjae held him fast and close, dragging a surprised little squeal from Ilhoon. “Sungjae?”

“I’m not letting you go,” Sungjae declared, burrowing his face on the crook of Ilhoon’s neck much like Ilhoon had done to him a couple minutes earlier. “I’m never letting you go.”

“It will be very awkward when we need to use the bathroom, and that’s a thing I’ll actually have to do now,” Ilhoon quipped, but there was a smile on his lips when he next spoke. “I’m not going anywhere. Even if I had somewhere to go, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Promise?” Sungjae asked, meek, and Ilhoon closed his eyes, his smile growing wider with the amount of warmth pooling inside his chest.

“Promise.” 


	8. As above, so below; as within, so without. (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember, this was a double update! if you haven't read chapter 7, go back and read that one first ✌️

Ilhoon took a deep breath as he felt the warm sunshine on his face, head tipped back and eyes closed to really enjoy it. Three years and he still couldn’t get enough of it, fresh air and sunlight, even the biting cold of winter pinching the skin of cheeks. To think he had once taken all those things for granted— Never again.

Life was pretty good. They were very well off financially since Ilhoon just kept making gold despite Sungjae’s protests - he’d taken a liking to technological gadgets, what was he going to do to get them, rob the stores? Even Sungjae had to agree with that logic - and without the pressure of struggling to make ends meet, he’d managed to convince Sungjae to go back to singing. Ilhoon, on his end, was spending a lot of time studying - mostly History. He’d missed a lot, as it turned out. He’d gone back to writing too, but now instead of poetry he was writing music (for Sungjae to sing, because of course, who else). 

They were happy. They lived in a bigger, more comfortable apartment, Sungjae wasn’t stressed all the time, and Ilhoon was— Well. Free. He was free. 

It wasn’t all roses, though. Ilhoon would often wake up in the middle of the night screaming, panicking, sure he was back inside the mirror. He couldn’t stand being in cramped spaces or small rooms, and hard as he tried he couldn’t get used to being around too many people.

Which was, incidentally, why he was standing on the sidewalk in front of the crowded Starbucks waiting for Sungjae to come out so they could walk home together; going in there, with that many people, was a guarantee he would break out into full panic mode. The sidewalk was much better, considering how people just got their beverages and left instead of loitering about in front of the store.

He heard the characteristic sounds of high heels approaching and opened his eyes - people approaching him was unnerving so he preferred to be on his toes - and had to bite back a little smirk when he recognized the woman. Sungjae’s ex-girlfriend.

She was walking and fiddling with her phone, not looking where she was going, so Ilhoon ‘naturally’ stepped back so he was right on her path. ‘Naturally’, she bumped into him.

“Oh, sh— I’m so sorry!” she said. “I wasn’t paying attention, did I hurt you?”

“Not at all,” Ilhoon replied, grinning amiably. “Oh, I know you.”

Sooyoung stopped, fixing the scarf that had come loose when she ‘accidentally’ bumped into him. “Uh— You do? I don’t think I know you.”

“Not in person, no,” Ilhoon confirmed. “You’re Sungjae’s ex-girlfriend.”

That got her to zero in on him very fast. “Sungjae— Yes, I am. You are…?”

“I’m Ilhoon.”

“Oh,” he could hear the recognition in her voice. “Sungjae’s mentioned you before.”

“Mhm, I know,” Ilhoon said, his grin widening. As much as he tried to clean up his act for Sungjae’s sake, Ilhoon would be damned if he simply abandoned his guilty pleasure of unnerving people for no reason. “I was there when he did.”

“You— You were?” Sooyoung sounded just as unnerved as Ilhoon had hoped. Delightful. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— I don’t remember seeing you there.”

“You didn’t see me,” Ilhoon confirmed once again, “but I saw you.”

“What—”

As if on cue, the door of the store behind them opened and Sungjae came out carrying a cup of coffee on each hand and wearing his usual dumb smile - which only Ilhoon could call dumb, if anyone else called any part of Sungjae dumb they would find themselves missing one or several limbs. 

Sungjae’s smile faltered for a split second when he realized Sooyoung was there, and judging from the look he gave Ilhoon, he clearly noticed she was uncomfortable.

“Sooyoungie, hey,” he greeted, awkward, and Sooyoung turned to face him. She didn’t look any less weirded out, but she did manage to smile back at him.

“Hi,” she replied in a small voice. “Long time no see.”

“Y-yeah…” Sungjae trailed off, moving an arm as if he wanted to scratch the back of his head before he remembered he was holding a cup of very hot coffee. “A-ah, here, this one’s yours,” he stammered as he played off the weird motion by handing Ilhoon the cup. Ilhoon shot him a knowing glance but made no comments, simply thanking him and accepting his coffee.

“You look like you’re doing well,” Sooyoung commented as Ilhoon took a sip of his drink, looking as unbothered as ever. Unlike her. “I’m glad.”

“I am,” Sungjae confirmed, stepping closer to Ilhoon likely to intercept any evil doings he certainly assumed Ilhoon had planned for her. Stupid Yook Sungjae. “What about you? How have you been?”

“Great!” Sooyoung chirped, her smile turning more genuine. “I— I actually started dating someone recently.”

“That’s great!” Sungjae said with genuine excitement, and Ilhoon was satisfied that they were at least one of those former couples that could be happy for each other. “Are you happy?”

“Yes… Yes, I am,” Sooyoung said, her cheeks becoming pink beyond the make-up she was wearing. “I really like her, I think it’s going to work.”

“I hope it does,” Sungjae said, and added, “Her, huh?”

Sooyoung giggled like a schoolgirl in love for the first time. It was kinda cute. “Yeah… You’re not the only one who had a bi awakening.”

“Good for you, Sooyoungie.”

“ _ Very _ good for me,” she emphasized. “I should get going, though, I’m late for work.”

“Right, sure,” Sungjae awkwardly gave her a half hug with his free arm, as he was still holding a cup of coffee on one hand. “It was really good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too,” she responded from her half of that very awkward hug. Turning to Ilhoon, she said, “It was nice finally meeting you.”

“Likewise,” Ilhoon replied, with an amicable little smile. Placid. The picture perfect of calm.

Sooyoung started to walk away, but before she could go far Ilhoon called out to her one more time. Sungjae made a little noise of distress in the back of his throat.

“Oh, word of advice,” Ilhoon said to her, “be careful around mirrors.” She gave him a look that spoke of both recognition and confusion, which was a strange combination, like stirring water and oil together. That only made his smile grow even wider before he concluded, “You never know who might be on the other side.”

Her expression went slack, eyes widening as the pieces finally clicked inside her head. What conclusion she came to, he’d likely never know - probably not the correct one, since ‘evil wizard trapped in a mirror’ wasn’t exactly a go-to explanation for things, but Sooyoung was a smart girl. Certainly she came at least close.

Not waiting for her to respond or react in any way, Ilhoon laced his arm around Sungjae’s and guided him away, to the opposite direction Sooyoung had taken. Sungjae stumbled but fell into pace with him easily, and Ilhoon didn’t have to look at him to know Sungjae was staring.

“You’re terrible.”

“You can take the evil from the sorcerer but you can’t take the sorcerer from the evil.”

“That makes no sense,” Sungjae said and Ilhoon could hear his eyes rolling in his voice tone. “What did she ever do to you?”

“I had a bone to pick with her ever since she accused you of doing drugs.”

“She didn’t accuse me of doing drugs, she  _ suspected  _ me.”

“Tomato, tomahto,” Ilhoon dismissed Sungjae’s concerns and took another sip of his coffee, humming happily at the warmth. “She’s a big girl, I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Sungjae sighed, freeing his arm from Ilhoon’s grip just so he could wrap it around Ilhoon’s shoulders instead. “You’re the absolute worst.”

“I am, and you love me anyway.”

“I do,” Sungjae immediately confirmed, not wasting a second - he never did. It made Ilhoon feel all fuzzy in the heart area.

Ilhoon grinned into his coffee, wrapping his own arm around Sungjae’s middle and snuggling closer to him. “I love you too, dummy.”

Sungjae pressed a kiss to the top of his head, one of the few advantages of being the shorter one in the relationship. “You’re putting a coin in the Evil Deeds Jar when we get home.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Ilhoon dismissed him again. “So, where are we going now?”

“I don’t know, home? Or to the movies, maybe? Or do you want to go somewhere else?” Sungjae asked. “You can choose where we go today.”

Ilhoon didn’t reply right away, instead basking in the knowledge he was allowed to make choices. There had been no choice to be made inside a mirror, nowhere to go, nothing to see, nothing to do. And now there he was, walking down the street with his boyfriend in a bright winter morning, centuries too late but happy in a way he couldn’t remember ever having been before.

And he was free.

Free to live and die and enjoy all those little moments in between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and it's over!
> 
> i feel like i could have done better but... oh well. the point came across well enough, i guess? anyways. thank you everyone who read it all! 💕

**Author's Note:**

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